I wrote the following on 1/15/15:
Today I
drove past the hospital where I had a C-section and met my beautiful daughter
for the first time. As the doctor performed the C-section, she told me that my
uterus looked so thin that it could have ruptured if I had gone through labor.
My water had broken 3.5 weeks early and even for being premature, our tiny baby
girl was underweight, but she weighed just barely enough to avoid going to the
NICU. She did not have to spend any additional time in the hospital. We were so
grateful.
It was the same hospital where I had been told,
about 7 months prior to meeting my darling firstborn daughter, that I was having a
miscarriage, later thought to be an ectopic pregnancy. I remember feeling so sad and asking the Lord
if He felt sad, too. Immediately I felt that the answer was certainly “yes.” I thought
of the story of Lazarus, when Jesus wept for his deceased friend, even though
he must have known that he would raise Lazarus from the dead. I knew that
regardless of the outcome, Jesus was heartbroken right alongside me. Less than
24 hours before I was scheduled to have surgery, the doctor had been looking at
my chart and thought “the dates weren’t adding up,” so I had one last sonogram.
Miraculously, our baby was there, alive and well. We were shocked and so very
thankful. We knew the Lord did not have to create or save our beautiful baby,
but He did it anyway.
At this same
hospital, I did have a miscarriage, for real, almost three years after the Lord
gave us Jane Elise. I had a large ovarian cyst, emergency abdominal surgery,
and a scary-high, stubborn pregnancy hormone level that just would not drop
after the miscarriage, requiring me to have two shots of a chemo drug. The next
step, if the second round of injections wasn’t effective, was to make an
appointment with an oncologist. To my great relief, my pregnancy hormone level
dropped dramatically after the second injection, rendering the appointment with
the oncologist unnecessary. I felt so very thankful.
I have
experienced lots of extreme emotions at that hospital, but for some reason when
I drove by, this time, the memories that came to mind were the numerous trips
we made--that same drive--to take Janie for appointments to see a GI specialist
because she was having great difficulty with eating, sleeping, acid reflux, colic,
and food allergies. One memory in particular came flooding into my mind. I was
driving this same route home with Janie when she was maybe 4 or 5 months old
and she was crying and screaming with what I had begun to identify as the “colic
cry,” which is distinctly intense and inconsolable. That was one of
many moments during the months after her birth when I began to fall apart,
overwhelmed with anxiety mixed with looming depression from the fear that it
was hopeless, that nothing could be done, that she would never get better, that
we would never get any sleep.
Tears stung my eyes with the pain and memory of
that feeling when suddenly, the Lord gently reminded me that my memory was not
quite accurate. There was a car ride
when I was gripped with anxiety as I listened to my daughter screaming
inconsolably, and a moment when I was panicked because of my concern for her
well-being but also so self-conscious as I walked into the hospital building and
got on an elevator with another adult who doubtless wondered what on earth
had happened to make my child scream that way. However, this had not happened
on the way home from the appointment. We did have that car ride on the way to the appointment, but on the way home,
the Lord quietly reminded me, I was in a quiet car by myself, rattled but able
to have 20 minutes of driving time to calm down and gather myself. Ah yes, I remembered, I was enjoying a quiet car ride home with no
screaming baby in the back seat because the Lord provided me with a loving, kind,
engaged husband who left work to come to every one of many doctor appointments
and who, seeing how frantic and distraught I was after hearing her scream all
the way to and through the appointment, offered to miss even more work in order
to take our crying baby girl home in his car so that I could have a
desperately-needed few moments’ peace. I thought about how the Lord
provided for me in that way, at that moment when I really needed it, and I know
I have experienced many other such moments. I wonder why it is that when I
remember those extremely difficult, painful times, I remember the pain of it so
much more than I remember God’s provision.
As I look
toward the future and think about my hope to have another child, after a miscarriage
and a year of delay, I feel so afraid when I recall how hard those months following
Janie’s birth were. I feel afraid to hope again after having a miscarriage and
some serious complications. I feel anxious about my current physical health, as
well as worried about my future mental health post-partum if we do have another
baby. I’m afraid I won’t be able to have another baby, and afraid of what it
will be like if I do. And yet, if I read my journals and blogs and search my
imperfect memory, I know I will find, over and over again, instances of the
Lord’s blessing, presence, peace, help, and provision as He lovingly cared for
me in those difficult seasons.
Father,
forgive me for having such a selective memory, for forgetting or downplaying
the ways that You helped me and took care of me in such desperate times. I
praise You because You are worthy to be praised and I praise You for loving me
so lavishly, in good times and in bad. Thank You for being faithful, for the
work You are doing in me, and for loving me too much to leave me the same.
Thank You for giving Your only Son that I might have abundant, everlasting life
with you. Thank You for “the present risenness of Christ,” as Brendan Manning
calls it, for the power of the resurrection that lives and works in me every day.
May I continue to praise You in every season and trust in Your provision for
the unique demands of each different stage of life. Thank You for loving me and
for walking with me through every difficult moment, watching over me and
protecting me, comforting and encouraging me, pointing me to Your truth, and
providing for my needs to be met through my family and the church. I love You,
though I know the best I have to offer is as filthy rags, and pray that You
would help me to love and trust You ever more.
In the
powerful Name of Jesus Christ, who saves, heals, redeems, and restores,
Amen
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