Fear.
It’s been a year since I found out I was expecting our 3rd baby. We tried, cried, and prayed for this baby for y.e.a.r.s.
Each time a friend would get pregnant while we were trying to conceive I would feel joy for them, but not as much as the sadness I felt for myself. Believe me when I say I felt like everyone I knew was getting pregnant. I felt broken. I didn’t understand why things weren’t working according to my plan.
In God’s time, friends would gently remind me. Yes, I knew it would happen in His time. That didn’t make it any easier.
Even though we had tried for years to conceive another child, when I got the positive pregnancy test,
there was a thought in my mind. It was a thought so strong and so deep that at time, it was debilitating. It was an intense thought of what if something goes wrong.
What if merely getting pregnant again was enough to kill me, what if something happened to my unborn child. What if she was handicap (don’t judge me), or still born. What if I died giving birth.
There were days that I would lay on the couch sobbing because the fear was so overwhelming, and my hormones were raging.
Before I even knew I was pregnant I knew there would be something wrong in my next pregnancy, I knew that there was a chance I could lose my child or myself.
There weren’t any major medical reasons predicting that this might happen. But I felt a nudge from God to be prepared.
I guess I’m just trying to talk this all out so I can finally let my fear go and know that everything turned out okay. Whatever okay is.
My pregnancy was tough. It was really hard on me this time around, but the labor went quick and the delivery was over in a blink of an eye.
The delivery was so quick that I didn’t have time for the drugs that I had thought I wanted.
My mind was clear. I was right there. I felt every little pain and movement. I felt it all, and I took it all in. I knew exactly what was going on when my little girl came into this world.
I didn’t experience that the last time that I gave birth I was too uneducated, doped up, and didn’t have a clue which way was up.
This time as my daughter entered into this earth I took a look at her. She was blue. I was prepared for the worst. I took a deep breath. I looked across the room and saw a nurse give me a soft, sweet smile. She was familiar, I thought she was my angel, coming to take me to meet my creator. My mind was so free, and I was thinking so fast. Everything was so fast.
I took another breath, and so did she. My baby that is. My baby breathed, screamed, and her color came quickly. “Praise you, Jesus!”, I said out loud.
I didn’t realize just how a newborn looks hot off the press. My last baby was bathed, dressed, wrapped in a blanket and wearing a sweet little hat before I even remember really looking at him (we had a tough time, but that’s all in the past now).
My daughter was okay. I was okay. We lived!
That beautiful nurse handed me my baby girl and kindly asked “are you going to be nursing?”. I sheepishly replied, “I’d like to, but I don’t really know how”. She gave me that same sweet smile and put my baby to my breast. Instantly, I was feeding my baby. I felt total bliss.
.Fast forward a couple months. We did find out that our daughter has a heart defect. She has a problem with a valve and an artery. She is okay, but we don’t know if she will continue to be okay as her body grows. This tears me up inside.
Her cardiologist described it as a house getting bigger, but the door staying the same size. We love her with all our hearts, and we will keep on loving her. That, and pray, is all we can do. I believe in healing prayers. I believe that our daughter will be healed. I’m not frantic feeling, or angry with God for my daughter having this problem. He prepared me to know something was coming. Of course I wish it weren’t this way. But don’t we all have something about us that isn’t perfect? 😉 And we’re all, okay.
My daughter’s name is Grayson. She was named before she was conceived, because I knew, that through this all, I would need to be reminded to have GRACE.
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