Anxiety is a tricky mistress. There are moments when its pull is crippling. Where I cannot even take a deep breath because my mind is in overdrive. Then there are moments where I barely recognize that anxiety is a thing; life feels normal and goes on as usual. No over drive, no back of the brain thoughts, no worst case scenarios. In managing all the emotions of this pregnancy, I certainly have my fair share of the crippling moments, but thankfully there is relief. Disney was one of those moments of relief. Watching my living child adore the magic that surrounds you when you’re in that place was perfection.
God has shown His love for me so many times since this pregnancy started. He has had specific gifts for each stage and for each of the particular moments on the swing of an anxiety ridden brain. From those initial weeks of peace and excitement to the sweetest ultrasound tech who could sense our stress and eased our fears with a gentle kindness. God has been in this every step of the way. I like to try and acknowledge those little kisses from God so that I am not so easy to forget them when my mind starts to wander into those dark places of what if. I’m so thankful for sweet gifts that are so perfectly timed that all I can see is God’s hand at work and all I can feel is the calm that comes from resting in His love and trusting His timing; which, let’s be honest, has not seemed so perfect at times.
One of the things that I keep longing for is to be able to truly enjoy these final months of pregnancy and those first weeks and months with Harry. Both of my older children have had their pregnancies clouded by stress and trauma. I don’t know what it feels like to come home from the hospital and just bask in those sweet newborn snuggles. I don’t know how to walk into labor and delivery with sweet anticipation and excitement. Both of the times I’ve done this before, I was grieving. I didn’t really want those babies to come, because there were other things on my mind and breaking my heart.
I remember when they placed Audrey Nole on my chest. She was so beautiful. I was so thankful for her precious life, yet all I could do was cry. Not happy tears, but ones of sadness. Intense, overwhelming sadness that I would never introduce this precious child to her Grammy. I cried. And while they measured her and did all the newborn tests, I cried. And then I couldn’t wait to get out of that hospital - because the recent loss of my mama had meant too many hours on a stuffy hospital room. On a wing where people were dying. We came home from the hospital and started to think maybe we could get excited about this adventure we were starting. When just a few days later I got a strange phone call from my dad... one that shook my world and lead to even more tears. He had had a stroke. And it was too much to bear.
The day that I went into labor with George, I did everything I could to convince myself this baby wasn’t coming. We weren’t ready for him. His scheduled c-section was just days away. His team of doctors wouldn’t be there if we spontaneously showed up in active labor. I couldn’t even breathe through my contractions when a dear friend told me I needed to call the hospital. Even after several conversations with the nurses in labor and delivery, I took a bath. And then a shower. And then I packed a bag. And then I called my dad to come and watch Audrey. Because this baby couldn’t come. We weren’t ready. I cried the entire drive to the hospital. I cried every time a nurse came in the triage room. I cried through every contraction. And I prayed that this baby would be our miracle. His birth meant his death. I knew that deep in my heart, and it was too much to bear.
This time, things have a chance to be different. I know that there is still grief, the very same grief that was there 4 and 2 years ago. But this time I’m enough removed from the initial trauma, that I have hope of some kind of normalcy. It feels weird to say this, but I feel like a first time mama. I’m preparing to have my third baby and yet this entire experience - particularly the birth and postpartum months - feels brand new. And scary. And at the same time, totally exciting and wonderful. All because of God’s specific love for me during each of these pregnancies. During each of the losses I’ve experienced. During the grief. During the mourning. During the survival. During every breath and through every thought. His love for me isn’t generic. It is perfectly tailored to me. To the specific and exact needs that I had and continue to have as I live out life as His child. So even in the unknown of what has the possibility of being a “normal” birth, God’s perfect love will be known and seen and felt. No matter how scary it might seem.
“And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” – Ephesians 3:17-19
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