I have always been that person who has wanted to wait until it was “safe” to tell people about our pregnancies. I will tell the very, very closest, those safest to my heart right away, but I will wait to tell the rest. I have called this “my safety zone.” I’ve never been a big fan of grieving while “the masses” looked on and this was my way of making sure I didn’t have to. We’ve always waited until we’ve seen an ultra sound, made sure that baby was in the right place, and made sure there was a heart beating strongly. I know, according to the books, you’re not out of the “danger” window until around 12-13 weeks, but since I get so sick during my pregnancies–and everyone has always told me that as long as you are sick, you KNOW the baby is okay–I have figured we were “safe” once we saw that heartbeat and as long as I was still throwing up. As much as I don’t enjoy vomiting every day, it’s been a comfort to me with each of my pregnancies. With each heave, I take comfort in the “fact” that my baby is growing well.
One of my initial thoughts after we lost the baby was, “Oh, no…my plan of waiting until it was “safe” didn’t work! We’ve told EVERYONE…Oooooohhhhh noooooooo…..” Total and absolute dread followed at the thought of having to tell the world the terrible news. Shame for celebrating our baby consumed me. And I immediately began changing my “safety zone” in my head: “Next time, I’ll wait until 13 weeks! Oh wait, I have friends who have lost babies even after 13 weeks. That’s still not safe. Okay, I’ll wait until 20 weeks! That will keep me safe! Oh, wait….I have very good friends who have lost babies after 20 weeks. That WON’T keep me safe. I’ve got it! I’ll wait until my due date to tell the world!! Oh…wait…I know that even women who carry babies full term give birth to stillborn babies…”
I played out various scenarios in my head–like, waiting until my next child’s first birthday to share the news with the world. But I knew, in reality, that even THEN I wouldn’t be “safe.”
I know I have only one choice that is “safe.” And I know exactly what that choice is…so, daily, I drop my tense shoulders…I let down my walls, I lift up my head, and I let the Lord IN…I set my terrified eyes on HIM. I lock my weeping heart on HIM. Because I know…that in Him, and Him alone, will I find safety…will I find shelter…will I find refuge…in the shadow of His wings, I am safe.
The Lord has had me on this journey of learning what it means to TRULY rely on Him, and Him alone, for years, but he has had His thumb on this issue very strongly for the last 2 1/2 or so. And I will be honest, I thought I was mostly done. I mean, come on, at least at 90% or so… But my tendency to want to find safety in statistics, in the past, in others’ stories, in science, in ANYTHING other than the Lord has reared its fierce head boldly since we lost our baby.
When tragedy occurs, we all just want to be safe. We all just want OUT of it. We all just want to have control over SOMETHING that will secure in our hearts and minds that we won’t ever meet tragedy again. I have wanted, desperately, to find something seemingly-safe to cling to. I have wanted to cling to the statistics to assure me that this will never happen again. I have wanted to cling to the fact that I have two of the most incredible children on the planet to assure me that, of course, I will get pregnant again and carry another baby full term. I have wanted to cling to the stories of my friends, who have lost babies and gone on to have more. But even as I have begun to put my hands on each of those “securities,” I knew instantly that my fingers would never be able to take a grip on them. They are too slippery, too unsubstantial, too meaningless. And now, I can’t even hope in my nausea. I won’t even “know” that my baby is okay because I am throwing up. Because that’s not true. Those statistics, those stories, my children…they are all great encouragements to me; they do give me hope to some degree. But they are not MY HOPE. They cannot be the places my eyes are set.
God holds life in His hands.
That’s it. That’s the end of the story. I can focus on my health, I can time whatever I want to, but GOD HOLDS LIFE IN HIS HANDS.
I can read, I can plan, I can study, I can take the perfect prenatal vitamins, but it is my GOD who holds my babies’ lives in His hands.
No king is saved by the multitude of an army; A mighty man is not delivered by great strength. A horse is a vain hope for safety; Neither shall it deliver any by its great strength. Behold, the eye of the LORD is on those who fear Him, On those who hope in His mercy, To deliver their soul from death, And to keep them alive in famine. Our soul waits for the LORD; He is our help and our shield. For our heart shall rejoice in Him, Because we have trusted in His holy name. Let Your mercy, O LORD, be upon us, Just as we hope in You. [Psa 33:14-22 NKJV]
I hope in THE LORD…not the “safety zone” of pregnancies, not the nausea, not the statistics, not the past. My hope, my trust, is in the LORD.
And so, my perspective has changed entirely. You know, I will never get to have a baby shower to celebrate the life of my third baby. I will never get to plan his or hers first, second, or third birthday party. I had 2 months, once we found out we were pregnant, to celebrate my baby’s life. And you know what? I DID. WE did.
We rejoiced over our baby’s life!!
Oh, how we REJOICED over this little one in our family!! AndI have no regrets. It was NOT a waste that we celebrated, despite what fear wants to tell me! I am so grateful that we did. I am so grateful for our friends and family who wholeheartedly celebrated with us!! I am so grateful that we took pictures, made a (virtual) announcement, and didn’t withhold our great news until it was “safe.” I am so thankful we didn’t miss out on our short window to celebrate the life of our littlest love. We made A LIFE, and we celebrated that life wholeheartedly. THANK GOD.
All three of our children :).
I was a bit taken aback, honestly, by the sympathy that came from “the masses” towards us. I didn’t think I wanted it or needed it, but I was so blessed by the way MANY came around us when they found out we had lost our baby. If you are reading this now, you are probably one of the people who did that, and I want to tell you how grateful I am for your love and your care. We live in hard times, where the lives of babies inside wombs are not valued as they should be, and yet you valued our baby’s life and then grieved with us when that life was gone. Thank you.
It’s just that I LOVE to celebrate, and I can’t believe I almost let that part of me be stolen. I’m sure I was created to celebrate. Jesus loved to celebrate too, you know! He loved weddings, right??!! 🙂 I love throwing showers, I love finding excuses to make a fun gift for someone, I LOVE IT ALL. And it’s because I love LIFE. I love people, and I love life. It brings ME to life when I get to celebrate others. Weddings are MMYYYY FAAAAVORITE….not because I love details and coordinating colors and themes and parties in and of themselves, but because I love TO TRULY CELEBRATE the fact that two people have chosen to lay their lives down for each other and become one before God and their closest friends!! That is a day to be CELEBRATED!! BIG TIME!!! Does celebration always have to look like a well-planned out party or gift? Oh, of course not. But HOW FUN to go ALL OUT and NOT WITHHOLD A THING to celebrate someone or something like CRAZY. I LOVE to celebrate LIFE.
I never want to quit celebrating. I never, ever want to quit celebrating LIFE. I never want to celebrate only when it’s “safe.” I want to be wholehearted and, like the woman many of us strive to be like, I so desperately want to “laugh at the days to come” and not fear them (Proverbs 31). It feels ridiculously scary, still, to think about (whenever that day comes) celebrating our next pregnancy boldly. So, so scary. And I have no expectations on us for when the “right time” will be to share. But, I do know this: without faith it is impossible to please Him, and my safety lies in Him…FAITH in HIM. And I want that truth to always drive our celebration, whether we share at 4, 10, 13, or 20 weeks next time.
Some trust in chariots, and some in horses; But we will remember the name of the LORD our God. They have bowed down and fallen; But we have risen and stand upright. Save, LORD! May the King answer us when we call. [Psa 20:1-9 NKJV]
WE HOPE, with all our hearts, that we will have another baby one day. But we will not hope in the fact that the statistics say we should or shouldn’t…If God grants us the blessing of another child to care for and raise here on earth, then it is solely by His mercy. Some trust in statistics; But we will remember the name of the LORD our God. We hope in the LORD. And though it feels so scary, I am promised that when I trust in His name, I will NOT be overcome by fear, but instead I will rise and stand upright. Praise be to God!!
Oh, Lord. Give me the strength, the hope, the faith to celebrate LIFE, even when it feels so scary. Give me the faith to trust solely in You, the One who holds life in His hands. Amen.
You stare at the ultra sound tech, who was gentle and quick with the news, and you ask stupid questions over and over, like, “what do you mean there’s no heart beat?”
When there’s no answer that comes from her mouth, and only several unsatisfying, “I’m sorry’s,” you turn to your husband to explain.
You look at your husband and ask, over and over again, “how can this be?”
When he only answers by squeezing your hand tighter and with silent tears that stream down his cheeks, you keep asking, over and over.
You get off the table when the ultra sound tech leaves you alone and you curl up on his lap and cry hysterically, still asking the same question and shouting, “no, no, no” to no one in particular…but deep down you know you’re talking to God.
You are moved to the doctor’s room and you wait together, crying and in disbelief.
The doctor comes in, and with your head buried in your hands and tears puddling on the floor beneath you, you ask, “WHY am I still throwing up? How can this be?”
You are convinced, when you ask, that she will respond by saying, “What? You’re still throwing up? You’re still so sick? Oh, well, then of COURSE the baby is still alive. There must have been a mistake.”
But she does not.
You ask a hundred questions that you’ve had to come up with on the spot.
And then you leave.
You hold your husband’s hand and close your eyes over and over again, hoping that if you blink hard enough you’ll wake up from this reality that feels far too unreal to be real.
And then suddenly, you are grateful. You have never taken your children for granted, you have always known they were miracles, but suddenly, right then, you are more grateful to God than ever before for the two lives he has already given to you to raise and love on this earth.
Your husband says, “let’s go get our kids and hug them tight,” and you know he is thinking the same thing.
You somehow drive home, in separate cars, and walk into your familiar, messy house. Everything is the same, just how you left it, yet everything is so different.
You sit on the couch and tell your 3 year old that we are not going to get to meet the baby in your tummy as we had planned. We will not get to hold the baby or see the baby, the baby will not get to sit in the extra high chair like he talks about every night at dinner. You tell him we will meet the baby in heaven, and when he asks when we get to go there you don’t know what to say.
He asks a few more questions, that you mostly don’t know how to answer, and then he jumps up and proclaims that he wants to play.
You are sad that he doesn’t get it, and so grateful that he doesn’t have to.
You put the kids down for naps.
You cry. A lot.
You lay in bed with your husband and cry so hard together that you soon can’t discern whose tears are whose.
You sleep. Sort of.
You wake up to the sounds of your two children laughing and playing hard with your husband, and you are so grateful hear the sounds of LIFE flooding your home.
You fight your nausea and head downstairs to be with your family.
Your husband hears you and runs to greet you at the bottom of the stairs with red eyes and a kiss.
You cry a little more in his embrace.
Your children run to you, and you cling to them with tears streaming down your face.
You play with them, gratefully.
You jump and down and shout hooray when your 3 year old puts his poops in the potty.
And then you turn around and laughter spills from your heart when your daughter puts her big brother’s underwear on her head–again–like a hat.
And then you cry some more.
You grieve and grieve and grieve.
You cry with your husband.
You cry with your best friends.
You pick yourself up, get the kids dressed, and go eat sushi.
You delight in your son using chopsticks for the first time.
You delight in your daughter who boldly walks up to every stranger in the restaurant and says, “hi!”
You go to the park.
You cry on the way.
You get home, get the kids in bed, and cry with your husband some more.
You process.
You pray.
You grieve.
You cry.
You thank God, for the hundredth time that day, that you married a man who values LIFE, and who fights for life.
And then you thank Him again.
You take a pill and try to sleep.
You wake up and you remember…
You see that your husband is not next to you, and then you hear him…downstairs, in the middle of the night, crying and crying out to God for a miracle.
You go back to sleep.
You wake up after fitful sleep and see that it’s morning. Your heart aches, and then you remember why.
You see that your husband is still not next to you.
You pray. And pray and pray.
You think. About everything.
You wonder…
You call out to your husband.
He comes running in the room, with red, red, wet eyes, and proclaims scripture after scripture to you, declaring God’s goodness, declaring hope…all through a broken, broken heart.
You cry, and thank God again for your husband.
You thank God for his weakness in this moment, and also his strength.
You go back to the doctor for another ultra sound…just to see…just to see if God had performed a miracle.
You see instantly that the miracle was not the kind you had hoped for.
But you get to see your baby on that screen again, and you love your baby, somehow, even more than the day before and the day before that.
Your littlest baby…
You remember that your littlest is in the arms of the One who formed him or her…understanding and experiencing His love more than you ever have.
And you are grateful. And sad. And grateful. And so, so sad.
You realize this is all far, far too much for you to understand.
And so you look up.
Because what else can you do?
You look up.
You are surrounded in darkness, so you look up. And you see Light.
You look up through your tears, you look up through your grief.
And when you look up, and see Him, your grief is comforted. Not less, but comforted.
When you look up, and you know…you KNOW…that this sweet little one will never know pain, will never experience hurt, will never taste sorrow…when you look up and you know THAT…then you can breathe again.
Because your littlest is in the arms of the Lord. The arms of the Lord.
You wish with everything in you that your baby was still with you. But when you look up, you are okay. Because the alternative is so rich…you know the alternative is Glory Himself. In the arms of the Lord.
You wonder how you will put one foot in front of the other. Walk out of the room. Love your family well.
And then you remember…
You remember him on your bed,
you meditate on Him in the night watches.
Because He has been your help,
Therefore in the shadow of His wings, you rejoice.
Your soul follows close behind Him,
His right hand upholds you… (Psalm 63)
How quickly you forgot. But at least you remembered…as soon as you looked up.
Yes, you are in shadow, but you are in the shadow of His wings.
And so, you rejoice.
Somehow, in His strength, you rejoice.
Rejoice in His salvation.
Rejoice that One died so that we ought never need taste the pain of death.
You know there has been no eternal death here…no, your baby is with the Lord.
Your baby has passed into LIFE…life with Life Himself.
You know there is no eternal death. Only eternal life.
You believe that His goodness cannot be overcome by darkness.
You don’t know how in this moment, but YOU KNOW.
You know you will remind your soul to hope continually,
and you will praise Him yet more and more.
Your mouth shall tell of His righteousness and His salvation all the day,
for you do not know their limits.
You will go in the strength of the Lord GOD;
You will make mention of His righteousness, of His only (Psalm 71).
Though this feels very much like “the end,” you know it is just the beginning for your littlest one.
And so, while nestled in the comfort of the shadow of His wings, you look up.
By you I have been upheld from birth;You are He who took me out of my mother’s womb.My praise shall be continually of You. Ps 71:6
Oh, sweet baby, you are up in heaven now, praising Him with all of your heart, mind and soul. Yet still, our heart will ache for you until the day we can hold you in our arms, alive. Goodbye, our most precious, precious baby…Goodbye for now.
-Grateful for new life. Grateful for the Lord’s mercy on me every day.
-Up for the challenge.
-Hopeful.
-Aaaanndd…nauseous most all the time. 🙂 But not necessarily like I’m going to throw up all the time…only really when I’m eating and gag reflex is really bad. Or when I don’t eat quickly enough, I throw up. But I will take being nauseous over throwing up ANY day of the week!!!!
-Super, super weak. Gone are the days of getting out of bed AND making the family breakfast AND unloading/reloading the dishwasher by 8 am. Getting out of bed is my max :). And sometimes I can even make the family breakfast on a good day!
-Like I’m eating all the time. Because I–literally–am. This is the HARDEST part by far…trying to find SUBSTANTIVE (i.e., MEATY) things to eat every 1-2 hours, day AND night (although at night I can get by with snacks). Whew. And then it takes me 30-60 minutes to eat said meal. So by the time I finish eating, I’m onto preparing the next meal. All of this is extremely difficult with two little ones running around…and not to mention that I have to focus and go to my “happy place” in my mind to make it through each bite without gagging/throwing up. A wee bit challenging when my kids want to sit in my lap as I eat, take bites, and ask me questions about EVERYTHING. But hey, we’ve survived this far :).
-so grateful that this pregnancy is overall so much better…
What’s working…
Lavender essential oil to help me sleep (miracle in a bottle). Apple sauce in squeeze pouches and Zone bars throughout the night. Brian brings me two hard boiled eggs and apple juice before I get out of bed. My tummy settles, I nurse Selah and then go downstairs for the third hard boiled egg. Make the family breakfast and then 30 minutes later, make 5 or 6 sausage links (dipped in maple syrup!) for my second (fifth?) breakfast. Hot dog for an early lunch. Nap with the kids. Macaroni and cheese for second lunch. Big snack of some sort, twice. Dinner. More macaroni and cheese for second dinner. Bed.
There you have it–my schedule. It’s what’s working right now, and keeping me from clinging to the toilet ’round the clock!!
The Vomit Count…
THREE TIMES. THREE times, folks!! That’s A MIRACLE!! When we found out I was pregnant, Brian said, “I think you’re going to throw up a maximum of three times.” I rolled my eyes and laughed…that’s usually a good average–per day–during one of my pregnancies. But so far–he is RIGHT! And I will NOT be ashamed to shout that he is right from the rooftops if, indeed, I make it the rest of the 9 months with no more upchucking. Please, Lord…
Biggest challenge of the month…
Besides the fact that Elliott, Selah and I have all been sick the last two weeks, the biggest challenge has been trying to wean Selah. I decided about week 6 that as much as I didn’t want to, I wasn’t up for losing the extra calories. So we began the process on that Monday. On Tuesday, she got sick and a tooth started to pop through…great timing :). So we did our best, but it was too hard to wean a teething, very sick and congested baby. Plus, she still won’t really take a bottle (or a sippy cup) of milk very well so the one feeding I had dropped she wouldn’t really drink any milk. And it was important to keep her as hydrated as possible. She’s now been sick for two weeks 🙁 so I’m hoping this upcoming week she’ll finally be over it and we can start the process again…
What’s out?
Going to the grocery store with the kids. Sheesh. I can barely stand up to get my 12 meals prepped every day, in addition to their 5-6 meals a day…just thinking about loading my 1 and 2 year old in and out of the car–twice–to get groceries makes me want to cry. So I promised Brian I would keep the kids alive during the day and he promised to do the grocery shopping :).
What’s in?
Cheeseburgers….THEY’RE BAA-AAAAA-AAAA-CK!!! Really, any kind of MEAT is my saving grace these days. And Mac and Cheese. So much mac and cheese (hey, at least it’s organic and whole wheat :)). And Ginger Ale, the natural kind.
Quotes of the month:
6 weeks, 1 day: “So does this mean you’re going to stop being able to look at me now?” –Brian, after I had had my first super nauseous day. (You may or may not remember, but during my ENTIRE pregnancy with Elliott, if I even LOOKED at Brian first thing in the morning, I would immediately throw up. It wasn’t that way with Selah’s pregnancy, but I think he’s still scarred from the experience, haha!!)
6 weeks, 2 days: “Hey! We’ve got this! We’re in the home stretch now!” –Brian, after I had relayed some sentiment about how this was just the beginning… 🙂
6 weeks, 3 days: As Brian saw the very pronounced baby bump protruding from my tummy: “Awww!! Look!! Our beautiful little baby bump!!” Me: “Or, a beautiful little taco soup bump…either one!” 🙂
8 weeks: “Hmm…I probably shouldn’t have had as many cups of coffee as I did this morning because I can’t get this needle in your arm!” –the nurse, trying to draw blood from my arm for a blood test. Yes, EXACTLY what I want to hear as she goes for prick number 3 to try and get the needle into my vein… :/
Some things I have been overwhelmingly grateful for the past 4 weeks:
-That I’m not a single mom
-That I have incredible friends who care deeply for me
-That Brian is amazing
-That we live in AMERICA…hence, food options that I (sort of) trust everywhere I turn.
-That we live 3 minutes away from a Carl’s Junior
-That I’m throwing up less than ever!!
-That the Lord’s mercy is always abundant and right on time.
8 weeks!
Well, there you have it…one month down, and FOR-EV-ER to go………. 🙂 Thanks for journeying with me! 🙂
We are SO thrilled to announce we have another little life growing in my womb… Baby Trés Bien, due October 12, 2014!
Why the nickname, you ask? Well, it’s just the only nickname that kept coming to mind when I found out we were pregnant. It’s baby number 3, which is where the “tres” came from. However, as many of you know, Brian speaks spanish with a French accent. Hence, the “tres” (trace) turned into “trés” (tray)…which, of course, must be followed by “bien” to complete the French phrase. How good our baby number 3 is!!! Trés bien!!
Elliott’s reaction: Well, Elliott’s been asking for “another Selah” for a LOOONG time… 🙂 From time-to-time he would ask me, “You have a baby in your tummy?” Or he would say, “I want another Selah!” So, needless to say, we couldn’t wait to tell him the news. When we sat the kids on the couch to tell them, this was roughly the dialogue:
Me: “Big guy, we have some fun news to tell you!”E: What?Me: We’re going to have another baby! You’re going to have another little brother or sister!E: Or like Selah. Me. Well, the baby probably won’t be JUST like Selah, but it might be a little girl or it might be a little boy.E: Right now?Me: No, it’s gonna take 9 months…it’s gonna take a long time. So you’re going to have a birthday and then Selah is going to have a birthday–E: SELAH ALREADY HAD HER BIRTHDAY!Me: Well, you’re right–E: Why her have TWO birthdays??!! Me: Well, she’ll turn 2 years old for her NEXT birthday.(insert lots of talk about birthdays…) 🙂Me: The baby is in my tummy right now, but the baby is SO tiny. Over the next few months the baby is going to grow bigger and bigger and bigger.Brian: So in a few months Mommy’s tummy is going to be a lot bigger, and then you’ll know that the baby is growing big and strong inside Mommy.E: Big and strong like you! (pointing to Brian) And like me! And like ME!!! And like Selah.Me: Do you think the baby will be a boy or a girl?E: Um, a boy.Brian: Do you want a brother? A boy like Elliott? Or do you want a girl like Selah, another sister?E: Another Elliott.Brian: You want another Elliott? Buddy, that sounds so fun!E: And I want another Selah. Who’s his mommy?Me: Well, buddy, I’m going to be the baby’s mommy.E: He’s going to be a big boy, like me. And he wear these? (pointing to the jammies he had on)Me: Well, maybe one day, if the baby’s a boy, he can wear those clothes. But when the baby is born we’ll give the baby baby clothes to wear. E: How the baby get in your tummy?Me: God put the baby there!E: Who be the baby’s daddy?Me: Daddy is the baby’s daddy. E: Who will drive her?Me: Well, buddy, Daddy or I will drive the baby wherever he or she needs to go.
Selah sat on the couch next to Elliott yelling, “BABY!!!”at the top of her lungs periodically throughout the entire conversation :).
So, stay tuned as we journey through another pregnancy as a family. October feels SOOOOOO far away, but hopefully with two littles running around and a summer to look forward to, the time will go by quickly. Click here to read about my first (real) month of pregnancy, even though it is officially “Month 2.”
It’s amazing how when something goes right, you realize how wrong it was before. In retrospect, I have even more confidence that the c-section was exactly the right call with Elliott. I know it may sound crazy, but despite the facts, there was always this teeny, tiny lingering thought in the back of my head wondering if the c-section was absolutely necessary. After Selah’s birth, that thought is totally gone. I had contractions. I dilated (eventually). Her heart rate stayed strong. I pushed. She came out.
I also have to laugh a little (mostly at myself) for all of the research and reading that goes into creating the “perfect” birth experience. “That” experience is just so far out of our control. I have to laugh at all the people who say there is a “right” way, and “anyone” can accomplish that way… When things are in the right places and going right, you’ll probably have a successful vaginal labor and delivery. When they’re not in the right place, you might end up in a c-section. I strongly believe in the expert help of a doula and/or midwife to help with positioning, etc., assuming that there are no complications big enough to keep the baby from being birthed naturally. But this whole delivery experience (and the ease of it) has really made me calm down a bit. Why did I push for 30 minutes and I’ve had friends push for hours and hours? Not because I read a book on pushing! Because…because…? Because we’ll never know. Because labor and delivery is OUT OF OUR CONTROL… And…IN HIS…
Now, back to Selah B and her birth day! I got to hold my daughter for the first entire hour of her life. How precious, how special. Such a gift. Just after noon, I handed her off to Daddy, who finally got to hold his little princess.
So proud.The first kiss of many, many, many more to come…
I remember the nurse asking us how big we thought she was, and realizing that I hadn’t even thought about the fact that we didn’t know her stats yet. I remember having no idea how big she was. I had been so scared of giving birth to a HUMONGOUS baby because a) I had gained AN ENORMOUS amount of weight with this pregnancy (way more than with Elliott) and b) I had had two friends recently give birth to 9+ and 10+ pound babies in September. I think I guessed 9 lbs, assuming she’d be bigger than Elliott because she was my second and also because I figured hot dogs & mac & cheese probably make for chubby babies, right?
But she wasn’t 9 lbs at all…8 lbs, 2.9 ounces to be exact!
The nurse measured her at 20 1/4 inches. Although, here’s a little secret fact for you. At her initial doctor’s appointment when she was 4 days old, she very clearly measured at 21 inches. SO, either the nurse measured her wrong originally, or our baby girl grew 3/4 of an inch in 4 days. You can decide for yourself what you think Selah’s REAL length was :).
Tiny feet3/4 of the Moberg Family
Before Selah was born, I made a banner for her and hung it over her waiting bassinet as a sort of declaration of faith. It said, “Welcome Home, Selah!” But in the exclamation mark at the end, it said, “We did it!” And although I didn’t know exactly what the “it” was going to look like, I knew the Lord was going to bring us through. I looked at and thought of that banner MANY times during the last few weeks of pregnancy and during my labor, as a reminder that yes, I would soon be bringing my baby girl home…that yes, I could do this…that yes, we would soon pass this test of faith…that yes, we would soon be on the other side of this pregnancy, of this labor, of this delivery.
Note #1: Because my firstborn, my sweet baby Elliott, was born via c-section, we had to make a choice about the type of birth we wanted to have with our daughter. A VBAC (vaginal birth after Cesarean) has its risks because it is possible (though unlikely with the type of incision I had with my cesarean) that the uterus could erupt during labor. However, having multiple c-sections has its disadvantages as well. We spent *a lot* of time praying, reading, researching, talking to doctors, midwives, and others, and finally decided that we wanted to go for the VBAC. However, we fully trusted the Lord for the outcome…trusting that He would make it clear to us every step of the labor if we were to keep moving forward with trying for a VBAC or if we should stop and have a c-section. My doctor said she wasn’t comfortable letting me go past 41 ½ weeks, so we had a c-section date scheduled for October 8 at 2:00pm with a check-in time of noon. If I didn’t go into labor before then, then our answer would be clear…
Note #2: One of the things that was difficult about my first labor/delivery experience is that I had so much trouble REMEMBERING most of those initial moments that Elliott was born. I am so grateful for the pictures that Brian and our doula took because I have no memory of the first few minutes that I got to hold him and nurse him. It had been a long, very hard week leading up to his birth and then a fairly traumatic rush into the emergency c-section. Anyhow, when I went to write out Selah’s birth story, the words that kept coming to mind were, “I remember…”…becauseI did. I am so grateful for the many gifts the Lord gave me in this labor and delivery, one of them being THE MEMORIES.
The Day That Selah Came
(And the days leading up to it…)
My due date came and went, and I was desperately trying to send my body into real labor. I remember one particular day, being super determined to get contractions going. I took Elliott outside to play soccer and every time he kicked the ball past me down the street I would run down the hill as fast I could to stop it.
And he thinks HE needs water!
At one point we walked to the bottom of the hill because he wanted to see the dogs, but then he got tired and wanted me to carry him back up the hill. I gladly scooped him up and made the hike! I got home and did 5 sets of stairs (my goal was 10, but that didn’t happen!). That night I attempted jumping jacks. And although I only made it through about 3 of them, I was laughing so hard at myself that I thought my snorting laughter alone might send me into labor! But it didn’t. And I was WIPED the next day from all of my labor-inducing tricks.
So, we went to the beach. And I laid down while Grandma & Grandpa Moberg played with Elliott. I was too tired to try and force my body into labor.
My vantage point on beach day. Can you see Grandma & Grandpa with Elliott over my HUMONGOUS baby belly?
Saturday, 10.6.12. I told Brian I needed a change of scenery. You can only walk around the block so many times when you are DAYS AND DAYS overdue before you start to go a bit crazy. I was officially one week overdue at this point, and the deadline of noon on October 8 was creeping up quickly… We all decided to go to San Diego for the day, run a few errands, find a fun park for Elliott to play in, and go to dinner with some family friends who happened to be in town. Little did I know that after having dinner with these same friends, Brian’s brother & sister-in-law went into labor the next day with their first…dun, dun, dun….
Little Buddy (soon to be BIG buddy!) loved the new park!Big Brother Elliott and me, one week overdue.
I got home that night and a friend asked how I was doing, knowing that my labor deadline was approaching so quickly. And I remember relaying to her the revelation that I had recently gained conviction for in my spirit: “You know, the Lord is so in control. He EASILY could have sent me into labor by now…” In the previous 24 hours, I had had such a peace come over me that the deadline set by man could not hinder the Lord’s plan for our lives. If He wanted me to attempt a VBAC, He would make it happen. If He didn’t, He would keep my body from going into labor.
So when I woke up with contractions around midnight, I remember encouraging myself (because yes, I often encourage myself!), “See…you knew He was in control…”
Labor begins…and I remember…
I remember thinking, “I can’t do this.” A lot of times. Like when we headed across the border at 5 am and I was throwing up in the car while having back labor contractions. And then Brian stopped for gas :). Like when we got across the border and daylight hit and my contractions stopped, just like they had done with Elliott. Like when I called the doctor on call to talk to her about what to do, not knowing how long I was allowed to “labor,” and she snapped at me, telling me 20 minutes between contractions is not real labor. Like when my contractions picked back up that afternoon, with heavy, intense back labor, and were 3 minutes apart for a minute long and I knew these were only the beginning stages of labor and I could barely handle it. Like when we decided to head to the hospital and I was on all fours, throwing up into a bucket, sweating from every pore of my body, feeling like someone was wringing out my gut from the inside out and scraping the nerves of my lumbar and sacrum with a scalpel.
But let’s back up a minute…
Midnight, 10.7.12. I remember waking up with contractions that continued steadily, every 5-8 minutes. Finally, around 3 am, I remember gently shaking Brian awake with a, “Happy Birthday, my love…guess what? I’m having regular contractions! Do you think we should head to San Diego?”
I remember packing up and trying to keep down an egg sandwich despite the nausea attempting to push it back up. I remember the moment the nausea won. And I remember collecting barf bags to bring in the car with us.
6 a.m. I remember arriving at the YWAM Hospitality house in San Diego, eating a bowl of Frosted Flakes, and laying down to rest for a bit because the contractions had almost entirely stopped…
Noonish. I remember being “that pregnant woman” walking through the Bonita Mall, trying to get my contractions going again but so badly wanting to celebrate Brian’s birthday…and I remember him saying over and over, “This is the exact way I want to celebrate my birthday…preparing for our baby girl to arrive!” And I remember realizing, once again, that I married the most incredible man on earth.
Happy Birthday, Baby Daddy!
Now, back to the “I can’t do this…”
3 p.m. ish. I remember laying down to try to rest when my contractions and the scalpel-scraping back labor all came back with a vengeance. I remember pushing against the wall with each contraction–the only position that was remotely “comfortable.” I remember finally getting down on all fours, head in a bucket, and trying to drown out the “I can’t do this’s” in my head by saying out loud over and over, “You can do this, Sus…you can do this…” After an hour of this, 3 minutes apart, we decided to head to the hospital.
I remember crying most of the way to the hospital. Not “I’m-in-so-much-pain” crying (even though I was!!), but “totally-overwhelmed-with-the-(amazing)-reality-that-this-was-actually-happening” crying. I called the hospital between contractions to tell them I was coming in. The first woman I talked to was sooo nice to me (God bless good ol’ fashioned NICE PEOPLE!!) and was sooo excited for me. “Oh, you are?!” the stranger exclaimed (as if she were my best friend) upon hearing the news that we were coming in. “Let me connect you to triage. Do you know what you’re having?!”
“It’s a GIRL!!!!” I sobbed as the dam holding together my composure came crashing down with a flood of tears…almost as a proclamation from my spirit that she was finally coming…Yes, she was coming!! We still didn’t know how, but we knew she was coming…now. Months and months of overcoming my fear of what could happen during this labor were coming to an end…now. Months and months of building up my faith, of learning how to trust the Lord in a whole new way…and now, now! Now the muscles of faith that I had been building for those months would get to participate in Game Day. Now…
“Oh, congratulations!!!”
“THANK YOU!!!” I sobbed back, and would have thrown myself into a big bear hug in her arms had she been standing in front of me.
She put me on hold and I just cried and cried…the lady picked up from triage: “May I help you?”
I quit trying to hide the fact that I was a blubbering mess, and I unashamedly cried like a baby into my cell phone. “Hi! I-I’m (sob) in (sob) labor and I-I’m (sob) coming in to the (sob) hospital!”
“Yay!! Congratulations! We’ll see you when you get here!”
“Okay!!!” I sputtered back through my stream of tears.
I remember being so overwhelmed. So grateful my contractions had stayed at 3-4 minutes apart for the last hour and half…so grateful that SOMETHING was going to happen.
I remember being checked into triage. I remember the nurse telling me that I needed to cleanse, pee a little bit in the toilet, and then pee in a cup. I remember looking at her like she had just asked me to do a handstand…was she cuh-RAZY? It’s hard enough to pee in a cup when your 10+ months pregnant, but to do it while having horrific back labor and to pee a little, stop, and then get the rest in a cup?! Okay…moving on…
5pm. I remember finally getting to the bed where they checked me. I remember the nurse checking me and telling me I was… (drum roll please…)
…at a 1 and a ½.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I remember thinking. A 1 and a ½???
I remember her saying, “Well, but your contractions are so intense and so close together (every 2 minutes) that I can’t imagine they’ll send you home…I’m sure they’ll admit you. You’re about 80% effaced.”
I remember being so grateful for that, thinking back to my labor with Elliott. (“Just please, please don’t send me home!!”) I remember them taking me off the c-section schedule for the next day, because even if I were to end up with a cesarean, I didn’t need that scheduled appointment anymore.
5:59 p.m. I remember meeting the doctor on call, and not being a big fan. And why had it taken her an hour to get there?? But she admitted me, and advised me not to get an epidural (which I was very adamant about making sure everyone I came into contact with knew that I was very eager to get started) until I was at least at a 4. I remember thinking that would be hard, but it was a good goal.
6:45 p.m. They finally got us upstairs to the delivery room.
7:05 p.m. I remember my sweetest little Elliott, who got to come up to visit. I remember having a contraction while he was there, and desperately trying to smile through it for him. I remember him seeing the yellow exercise ball in the room and shouting, “Boh!!” and I remember just wanting him to laugh and run and play with it, filling the room with innocence… I remember that he wanted to sit on my lap and he kept pointing at all the “bracelets” I had on my wrist. And I remember that it was one of those moments where you are so glad he doesn’t understand that the red one is in case I need a blood transfusion and the IV in my arm is in case I have to be rushed into surgery…and his naivete brought a sort of refreshing calm to my spirit…it wasn’t his job to worry about anything other than why I was so blessed with some new “jewelry,” just as it wasn’t my job to worry about anything other than resting (well, ahem, laboring!) in the Lord’s hands. Constantly grateful for the ways my son reminds me that I am my Father’s daughter, His little girl, His baby.
“Wow! Look at all your pretty bracelets, Mommy!”
7:15 p.m. I remember getting iv drugs—Zophran to help with the nausea and some pain medication to help relax my body to hopefully help me dilate and make some progress.
9:27 p.m. I remember the nurse checking me and telling me I was at a 3. And I remember thinking I didn’t want to deal with the back labor any longer. We had decided ahead of time that it would be the best thing for me to get an epidural in case I needed an emergency c-section, and so if I was going to get one anyway, I wasn’t willing to endure the back labor anymore. I remember praying with Brian, and feeling peace about getting the epidural right then, even though I wasn’t at a 4.
9:40 p.m. I remember Dr. K. coming in to give me the epidural. I remember them telling Brian to sit down in a chair in front of me so he couldn’t see the needle, and giving him a mask. I remember the needle going in, and it feeling off-centered…like it was to the left of my spine.
10:55 p.m. I remember the nurse checking me, and relaying the news that I had made no progress. I remember being discouraged (this scenario was all too familiar…), but still at peace. They put the catheter in, and I tried to sleep, knowing they were going to relay the news to the doctor.
11:19 p.m. Dr. R (the OB) came in and checked me. I remember her telling me that I was actually still at a 1 ½. Ha!! How do you dilate backwards?? I remember wanting to ask for someone with smaller fingers to check me again. 🙂 I remember feeling like she thought I was the biggest wimp, and I remember not caring at all. She broke my water, and it was clear. A great sign.
I remember so badly wanting Selah to be born on Brian’s birthday, and realizing that it wasn’t going to happen…
I remember joining hands with my husband and praying boldly for our hearts’ desires…that God would allow us to have a VBAC.
I remember sleeping, and suddenly being woken up with panic. I couldn’t feel my left leg (which felt like it was the size of a tree trunk) at all and the back labor had returned on the right side of my back. I remember panicking…feeling so out of control…wondering how I would get on all fours if her heart rate dropped like Elliott’s had. Wondering if I could do this…feeling so tired of the whole process. I remember my husband taking my hand and I remember praying with him…I remember him boldly declaring truth over me and our sweet Selah, and I remember feeling peace. I remember asking him to get my ipod, in which I had just put on a new playlist of 4 songs specifically about the Lord’s faithfulness, specifically for Selah’s birth. And I put the ipod by my head, and rested beneath the promises of the Lord…
4 a.m. I remember Dr. R. checking me and telling me I was at a 4. Hallelujah. I remember her saying I needed to keep dilating in order for this to keep going…
I remember texting a couple people to pray for dilation breakthrough!
6:55 a.m. I remember them checking me and telling me I was at a 6…that could be stretched to a 7!
7:00 a.m. Doctor’s shift change, praise God. I remember Dr. Huskey coming in, and cheering for me. We had made it this far. I remember being in her office the previous Wednesday and I had been at a 0. We had talked through the c-section protocol. But now, here we were…on c-section day, but I was in labor. I remember being relieved that she was on call, not the other doctor anymore… I remember her saying, gently but firmly, “Okay, I’ll give you as much time as I can–until 10 o’clock—and we’ll check you again. As long as you’ve made progress, we’ll keep going. Now, if you’re still at a 6, we need to talk about a c-section, okay?”
I remember saying, “Okay,” and not being afraid. I remember simply being so confident that the Lord was going to bring Selah into this world in the perfect way…whether it was vaginally or through surgery.
Then, I remember realizing it was time to put my game face on. My Deborah face. It was time to stir up the Mama in me that was created to rise up and fight. There is this balance (that I have been learning about) of relinquishing my plans in the Lord’s hands, trusting Him to bring about the BEST way, but also knowing I was created to fight, to war, to cry out for my heart’s desires. So, I rose up. I began to pray and talk to Selah constantly. I even moved my iPod down towards…how do I say this…”The Exit” (tmi?) so that she would hear the music, singing of God’s faithfulness, and know which way to get out :). I talked her down…I told her which way to go and what to do. I prayed for her. I prayed for me. I remember being so filled with peace, and so filled with a confidence that she was moving…
And then, I remember feeling the urge to take a big poop…that’s what everyone had said it would feel like. I remember being half in and out of sleep/prayer land and feeling that and suddenly, urgently, excitedly, hopefully calling Brian. “I feel like I need to poop!!”
“Okay…” he responded. (Oh, the things my husband puts up with!) 🙂
“That’s what everyone says it feels like when you’re ready to push!”
I asked him to get the nurse, and when she came in I relayed the news with incredible eagerness to her, just like a toddler who’s potty training. “Well, I’m only allowed to check you every 2 hours. So let’s wait until 10…”
9:55 a.m. I remember the nurse coming in just before 10 and saying, “Well should we check you?! I can’t wait any longer to find out if you’ve made progress!” And I remember thinking, “You’re telling me! Check me!!”
And time paused in that moment and a heavy stillness fell in the room as if all of creation was waiting for her answer. And then it came…And I remember…oh, I remember her smiling, and saying…
“You’re at a 10. Her head is right there…you’re ready to push!!”
I had never heard those words before!! And I remember crying and saying, “Really?! Really??? I get to push?!!!”
I remember her saying, “Now don’t push yet. Wait for me to get back in here so I can show you how.” And I remember thinking, “Are you crazy? I have NO idea what I’m doing…I’m not pushing without you!”
I remember other nurses coming in and setting up the room. It was happening. I remember Brian taking notes on his phone. I remember us trying to figure out how to set up the tripod to take pictures. I remember putting one song on repeat and putting the ipod up by my ear. I remember being so at peace…I remember being so confident in our God. I remember the room being a place that was calm…not panicked…and I couldn’t believe this was how birth is supposed to be…
I do remember wondering how I was going to push since I couldn’t even feel my left leg…
10:30 a.m. I remember them getting my legs in the stirrups.
I remember asking for a mirror.
10:33 a.m. I remember the nurse teaching me how to push, and I remember doing a practice push. I remember thinking pushing was going to be so challenging, but I was so eager, ready, and excited to face it. I remember doing the practice push and asking, “Is that it?? Am I doing this right??”
I remember thinking that I would need a lot of help, but I didn’t. At one point, I remember the nurse had to walk out of the room and Brian was trying to get the tripod set up, and I just push, push, pushed on my own…so eager to see my baby girl. I remember thinking that pushing was a lot easier than I had thought it would be, and that was PURELY the grace of God…
I remember smiling the entire time that I pushed. I couldn’t help it…I was pushing!! I was pushing my baby girl out!! This was it!!!! I was filled with an all-consuming peaceful joy…serenity…
Pushing!! And smiling!!
10:43 a.m. I remember seeing the top of her head!!!!!
10:57 a.m. I remember the nurse calling in the doctor and the team…
I remember Dr. Huskey coming in and pushing once for her. Then I remember her saying, “Okay, I want her to come out on this next push, alright? Can you do it?” And I remember saying, “Yes!”
11:07 a.m. And then…oh, and then!! I remember seeing Selah’s perfect head followed by her perfect body come out, and I remember her crying right away…
…And I remember thinking, “We did it!! We DID it!!”
…and I remember watching everyone’s faces and I remember that none of them were panicked…I remember thinking, “It’s all okay…everyone is okay…”
…And I remember them putting Selah on my chest and I remember being absolutely overcome with gratitude…
…I got to hold my baby girl!! I got to hold her right away!! And I remember those first few moments of holding her in my arms….
…There she was, crying on my chest…she was mine…and I was filled with overwhelming gratitude…
…And I remember talking to her and just loving hearing her cry…
I remember telling her that she did such a great job over and over and over again…that she knew exactly what to do and she did it…
I remember holding her on my chest and loving being her mom…loving getting to see her up close right away…loving every minute…
I remember thanking the Lord…over and over and over again…I remember being so, so grateful…I remember somewhere in all that my doctor said, “You tore a little bit…to a 2.” And I remember instantly saying, “That’s okay!!!” What a small price to pay for my sweet baby Selah!! And I remember…I remember it all…
“You have given her her heart’s desire, And have not withheld the request of her lips. Selah!”
Psalm 21:2
Oh, how she isand will be a constant reminder to stop, to pause…to remember the Lord’s faithfulness and to lift up praise to His name!!!
Today is one of those days, where I wake up and am flooded with gratitude from the moment my day begins. Not because life is easy right now. Not because we have everything figured out. Not because I slept well. Not because I’m comfortable.
But because God is good. So, so good. I am overwhelmed with gratitude today, and am taking my first “down” moment of the day to write down those things…so I don’t forget, so I give glory where glory is due…thank you, Lord. And as the tears flood my eyes, I write…
I am so grateful for my husband. Who relentlessly serves me and our family with such joy. Who tells me to sit down and talk about my day while he does the dishes. Who rubs my swollen feet. Who encourages me daily and tells me I’m doing such a great job. Who loves our son better than any dad I know. Who takes him swimming and teaches him to play soccer. Who helps me. All the time. Who always goes back down the stairs when I’m all tucked in bed and have forgotten to get my middle-of-the-night snacks. And then again when I realize I’ve forgotten my phone. And then again when I realize I left the monitor down there. 🙂 Always with such joy, always with such an eager heart. Who has done all of our Costco shopping with Elliott every single week by himself so I can sit and take the 30 minutes I need to eat a hot dog after our long afternoons filled with doctors appointments in San Diego. Who ties up my vomit bag for me after I’ve upchucked said hot dog mixed with who-knows-what-else, and takes care of it so I never have to see it (or smell it) again. Who adores me, and tells me so every day.
I am so grateful for my son. My Elliott. Who is simply my greatest joy. Who is in this stage where he loves holding our hands, so it’s not good enough to be walking next to him, I must be holding his hand. I love that.I cherish that. Who, after telling me to sit on the ground and me realizing he has a poopy diaper, brings me his diaper caddy and lays down on the floor with such joy so I can change his diaper without having to stand me and this big belly up again! Who is such an incredible helper. Who instructs me to sit down on the bench in our bathroom and brings me my tennis shoes. Who tells me when I have yogurt on my elbow and marker on my face. Who loves people so much that when new friends come by he wants to emphatically show them where the nearest ball is right away, because that’s his greatest treasure.
I am so grateful for family. Who love us so much. Who pray for us daily and tell us that. Who are always thinking about us. Who Skype with us and visit us. Who would, really, do anything for us if we asked.
I am so grateful for friends.Real friends. Who speak real truth. Who encourage me, who encourage us. Who pray for me. Who love me. Who send me daily text messages with Scripture. Who rejoice with me. Who help me design my baby girl’s nursery. Who send me fun surprises in the mail and beautiful cards. Who write things like this to me as I wait for my baby girl: “…so in praying for her arrival, I’m praying for something greater than perfection circumstancially. I’m praying for the peace that comes from seeing clearly the magnitude of the prize that this soul is, so that whether day one is perfect, or as imperfect as many of the days that will follow, it doesn’t matter in contrast to the power and glory of this little one shining the light of Christ in this and in eternity…” How blessed I am to have real friends.
I am so grateful for four cheese curly pasta. It makes me so happy. Every. Single. Day. Elliott was about 98% cheeseburger; this little girl is about 98% macaroni and cheese. With a good amount of hot dog mixed in there (I know, I know…but hey, YOU DO WHAT YOU GOTTA DO TO SURVIVE.)
I am so grateful for cold water. Seriously, so grateful. I am thirsty and hot all the time, and I do not take it for granted that I have access to cold, fresh, filtered water all day long, when there are some just minutes away from us who do not have that luxury.
I am grateful for my daughter. Oh! My perfect, wonderful, tiny little bundle of girlness…I love her so much!! She is my daughter…my daughter. I cannot wait to meet her, to see her face, to watch her first breath…to hold her and nurse her and provide for her every need…to look her in the eyes and tell her who she is in Christ. My daughter. Oh, I am so, so grateful for my daughter.
I am grateful for peace. Supernatural, miraculous peace that can only come from Peace Himself.
I am grateful that I don’t have to be in control. Because HE IS. Because HE IS the I AM. Because He knows…and I don’t.
And last, but certainly not least, I am so grateful that it’s Friday. Friday night, even! Family time for two whole days, Grandma & Grandpa Moberg arrive tomorrow night, and soon…very soon…we will have our baby girl in our arms.
And yet still, for so much more…for Frosted Flakes and for my supportive sandals that allow me to wear dresses and skirts and not die of a back ache by the end of the day. For the super discounted air conditioner unit we found for our bedroom. For our friend Rayel who is living with us. For my exercise ball. For anti-nausea medication. For my maternity swimsuit. For four new babies being born this past week! For peaches. Oh, how happy peaches make me!! Ahh, for all these things and so much more…thank you, Lord…thank you, Lord.
One day, Suzanna and I were waiting in the border line and we had a conversation that went something like this:
Me: “Hey, I’d really love to take some pregnancy family photos, and I was wondering if you were any good at taking pictures…?”
Suzanna(without hesitation and with a huge smile): “No!! I’m not!! But I would love to!!!!”
Well, the following are the handiwork of that “not-very-good-at-taking-pictures” woman! I have to make the disclaimer that I am very well aware of the fact that these finished photos (with my incredibly amateur editing skills using a free program) do not in any way compare to the skills of all of my amazing photographer friends, but…seriously, I couldn’t be happier with them!! I love them!!!It probably helps quite a bit that we live in a BEAUTIFUL place, but I’m telling you…Suzanna may be your next famous photographer!!
Here are a few of my favorites!!
Elliott wasn’t really into taking photos…note to self: a boy who loves the beach will not be content being held while we stand in sand…he only wants to be in the sand…
Rosarito BeachIsn’t it beautiful?
We finally let Elliott sit down in the sand, which made him very happy :). He sat there watching the sand drop through his fingers like the most amazing miracle was happening before his eyes…
LOOK AT HIS FACE…I LOVE IT!!!
My sweet baby boy, who is now 17 months old!!
Studying a sand dollar with delight…Our absolute FAVORITE…This is a classic “Elliott laugh”…I love the way the sand is falling off of his feet here…such delight!
We let Elliott play in the sand for a bit and caught some couple shots:
*mwah*I love my husband. And I think he loves me, too :).My boys.
No beach trip is complete without being thrown into the air, right?
Pure delight!Pure joy!“Elliott, can you give your baby sister a kiss?”*mwah!*35 weeks pregnant!
We are overjoyed to announce the newest addition to this Moberg family…I have the honor of growing another sweet little love in my womb!!!
I have just crossed the 11 week mark in my pregnancy, and I’m not going to lie–the last 5 weeks have had their fair share of challenges. Nothing compared to my pregnancy with my perfect sweet little Elliott, but nonetheless…challenging. The toilet bowl has once again regained the title of “bff” (it’s a love-hate relationship) and I am a slave to food. I am fatigued beyond fatigue and carry my Tums with me every where I go to try to keep my lunch from crawling back up my throat. Life is challenging right now. YET…I wrote the following thoughts the very first day that I threw up this pregnancy, and I wanted to share them, both as a reminder for myself and hopefully as an encouragement to others. It has only gotten harder since, but nonetheless, I cling to the truth of the promises here. I hope that these words bring comfort, revelation, and a new joy to all those women out there who have tough pregnancies.
February 11, 2012
Scripture talks about the fact that the greater we suffer with Christ, the greater glory will be revealed in us. Suffering, in any form, teaches us to identify with our Savior, who, as an innocent man, suffered a grueling death that he did not deserve. And then there’s the verse in Hebrews 12: “For the joy set before him, he endured the cross…”
I’ve had this verse running through my head for about a year and a half now. Ever since I realized that I was one of the chosen ones to endure 9 months of vomiting in order to pop a baby out, I haven’t been able to get this Scripture out of my head. Because I knew we would have more kids–we weren’t going to stop at one–but with every addition, I would KNOW exactly what I was about to endure. And yet–yet–it is the JOY that is set before me that gives me the strength to endure.
It’s been 10 months and 21 days (but who’s counting?) since I’ve thrown up. And as I clung to the toilet seat this afternoon, the Scripture that accompanied every vomit with Elliott ran through my head again. I heard myself say out loud, “Okay…” in between hurls. An acknowledgment that it’s time to really start enduring. So many thoughts and emotions and resolves hung up in that word, “Okay.” “Okay, Sus, it’s time to put your game face on…” “Okay, just 8 1/2 more months to go…” “Okay, you can do this…” “Okay, you’re going to make it…’ “Okay…this is for you, Sweet Baby Beta…this is all for you.”
And, as motherhood continues to do, Jesus reveals his love for me to me even more. Because I am doing this all for one…one precious life, that I do not take for granted. Don’t get me wrong–I wouldn’t mind cramming a few more babies in there so that at least I could suffer once for two or three! But–it is all so worth it for my one. This little one is worth it, this little one is worth it all. To say Elliott was worth 9 months of throwing up is the most obscene understatement of all time. To say he was “worth” waiting 10 extra days for him to come, painfully laboring for 8 of those, all to end up in an emergency c-section…to say he was “worth” all of that? No way. I need a much stronger, much more powerful word. I can’t think of a single thing I wouldn’t endure to bring his life into this world.
And so I understand Christ’s love more than ever before. Because He suffered for all of us, but He would have died just for me. Because he loves me that much. Because I–alone–am worth it to Him. And the fact that I know that my re-birth into my new life in Christ came because of His sacrifice sobers me.
So now I wait for Baby Beta. I endure for Baby Beta. And I endure with joy. I do not look at this pregnancy as if it were an inconvenience to my life…it is my honor, myjoy to bring life into this world. And the fact that this life will come as a result of suffering? Well, I say, the greater glory that will come!! I want Elliott, and Baby Beta, to grow up knowing that they were WORTH my sacrifice. And I did not sacrifice begrudgingly or with complaint, but with joy in my heart for the prize that was set before me. (And, oh!! What a prize!!) And I pray that this understanding would begin to give them both revelation of the gift that our Savior gave to them…a gift that came with a cost. But it was for the joy set before Him that he endured…and so I pray that they would each know their value and their worth. That if they had each been the only one on earth, Jesus would have died for them.
