Choosing Hope

I spend a lot of my time, just doing, not really thinking about why I do what I do. I just do. I suspect that I'm not alone in this experience. And a lot of times I remain that way unless someone asks me what my motivation is, what is going on inside my mind. I recently had a wonderful conversation with my friend and she asked me how my faith influenced my recent experience with depression. And I hadn't thought about that. I was just kind of doing, not really delving into the deeper levels. Since then, I've given it some more thought than I did during our conversation.

As I thought about how my faith in the Christian God influenced my current experience, I also thought about how it colored my past experience with a miscarriage. Between my first and third pregnancy, I miscarried one of my babies, lost so early that I have no idea if our baby was a boy or a girl and I barely knew when the baby actually passed. And I think that on and off since that experience, I've had time to process bits and pieces of it.

That baby was the only baby I carried feeling confident that I could be this baby's mother and do it fairly well. I've doubted with each baby since. I now see that as a gift that God gave me. I enjoyed being pregnant and bonded very soon into it and that doesn't happen with me. It takes me time to grow to fully love someone, but not that time and that is a gift.

I have kept coming back to something. How did I have any peace at all when my child was gone away? It was not comfortable and there are still times when I'm haunted by different aspects of it.

My friend asked me how I could have any comfort right now and I honestly didn't know. I'm not in a particularly lush season spiritually. And I thought about my baby that has gone away. How do I have any comfort or peace at all about that? Isn't it totally unfair of God to take my baby from me for no apparent reason? What about the babies from other families? What about Alex, Elias, Eva, Shiloh, as well as so many others whose names I don't know? Why weren't we allowed to keep those babies? We're good parents. What was so wrong with keeping them?

And it came down to this for me--those children do not belong to us, not really. I am my children's mother, but they do not belong to me. I only am given them for a period of time to take care of, but ultimately, they are God's children and He loves them more than I can and He doesn't need me in this process. After my miscarriage, we were still in our routine of reading the Bible and singing to Samuel when he went to bed and for the longest time, one line from "Jesus Loves Me," made my throat catch. "Little ones to Him belong. They are weak, but He is strong." Oh, we all are weak, so very weak. And He is strong, so very strong.

My baby that I didn't get to keep is not kept by Jesus who can keep that baby happier and healthier than I ever could. That baby, along with the ones I do get to take care of for longer, all belong to Jesus. I don't get to make the big calls in and about their lives. That's a far higher authority than I have. I wish I had been able to kiss that dear tiny face. I wish I had been able to make a memorial place for this person who was so dear to me. There are so many things that disrupt my comfort in that they still hurt. Oh, it very much still hurts, and I suspect always will. But, that does not disrupt what I believe to be true--these are His children, not mine, and He loves them better than I do. I don't understand how His loving Jamie meant taking him or her away so soon, but I trust that it was love.

A few months ago, I took my oldest to have his shots done before school begins. I explained a little ahead of time what it would be like and emphasized a lot about the ice cream we were going to get afterward. He was very brave at the time of getting the shots, but for hours, days, weeks afterward he kept asking why he had to have shots. And I explained that they prevented him from becoming sick with really bad sicknesses. I explained over and over why, but that didn't change that his arm and leg were both sore from them and he didn't understand fully how sick he could have gotten without them. He just knew it hurt. He didn't understand that there was love in it.

I love him enough to trust someone more educated than myself to make a call about his health and to take their advice in an attempt to protect him from exponential pain without the treatment. I and an imperfect parent. God is a perfect parent. How much more does He do the same with me and mine? Yes, I do not understand the pain of the treatment and I will likely ask over and over why I had to have that. And He may not ever be able to explain it to me in this life. But, it comes down to my trusting Him as my father. Do I trust that He loves me? Yes. And because I trust Him as my father, I trust that even though I hurt sometimes, He does these things because He loves me and somehow will work good out of it.

And it's easy to look over what I've written and be frustrated because I cannot lay out enough how incredibly searing it is to learn a piece of this, but still wrestle with the pain of it. And just because I'm trusting that God is loving us through this doesn't mean that it doesn't still hurt and I still don't understand. That will never go away and I think we all need to be ok with that. Christianity should not seek to take us into happy resolution in half an hour's time like some TV show from the 1970s. We need to accept the lack of resolution for the here and now as a byproduct of being imperfect people in an imperfect world. Our trust is not in the here and now, but the there and then. Then I will understand. Then I will see how much I was and am loved. And I trust that in those terms, my Jamie is much further ahead in experience than I am. My Jamie is His Jamie and knows and understands and rejoices in the now and in the time to come. And I will continue to wrestle, choosing hope in His love rather than despair in my lack of understanding.

Roselyn Joy Paul's Birth Story

Roselyn's story comes long before her birth.  One afternoon when Geoffrey and I had the house to ourselves and after feeling a bit off, I took a pregnancy test. I came back into the den where he was sitting and threw the positive test next to him. And we laughed and kissed and kissed and laughed. Nothing was funny, but it was one of those moments when joy was so strong that it came out in laughter. 

A few weeks into things, I started having some sharp pains in my left pelvic area so I decided to call my doctor to check on things. We went in and had some blood work done and an ultrasound. The blood work came back with another confirming positive, but there wasn't anything visible on the ultrasound which didn't surprise me at the time because a lot of times my dates seem about two weeks off. My doctor was a bit concerned, though. Even though it was 4th of July weekend, she sent us to the hospital for follow up ultrasounds and blood work. Blood work did exactly as it should have--the numbers increased indicating a healthy pregnancy, but again nothing was visible on the ultrasound. So, my doctor came to the hospital to discuss the situation.

Because of the pain and the high hormone levels and lack of visibility of the pregnancy, she was worried that the pregnancy was ectopic. Ectopic pregnancies not only don't have a chance of developing, they also pose a strong risk for the mothers because a ruptured ectopic pregnancy causes internal bleeding and the mother can bleed to death. When the pregnancy isn't visible yet, it can be terminated with taking a pill to cause a miscarriage or abortion. But, when the pregnancy does become visible in the wrong place, it can only be removed by surgery. So, that day our pro-life values were challenged in a way we could never have imagined. Did we really believe this was a baby? Was my life more important than this life?

We decided to wait a couple of days before doing anything. I couldn't make a decision based solely on numbers. I'd have to know that my baby had no chance and was a risk to my life before I could make any kind of decision at all and even then, I didn't think I could make the call. I just couldn't give the go-ahead to abort a baby even if it did pose a risk to me. Geoffrey was willing to make the call in order to preserve my life, but I was still not ready to make a decision.

A couple of days went by and we went back for more blood work and another ultrasound. Hours went by and I felt the weight and turmoil of the decision pressing on me. My doctor called us and let me know that the hormone levels had gone up and the pregnancy was visible and right where it should be! For the rest of my pregnancy, every single time I saw my doctor she remembered that moment and talked about how thankful she was that things turned out well for us. 

My other two babies needed to be induced to get here, so I'd always wanted to just go into labor on my own if for no other reason than to know what it was like. I got my wish this time. March 7th, my due date, I awoke to steady and decently strong contractions about every five minutes. This actually irritated me because for weeks I'd been having some strong, regular contractions. I was not about to let myself get excited. It was early and I was annoyed to be awoken by nothing to get excited about. It started around 5:15, so I waited awhile and then remembered something key--real labor contractions will get stronger when you get up and walk around. So, I tested this out by making the long trek to the bathroom.

Thinking I'd have time to go to the bathroom before another would hit, I was very surprised when I had a hard contraction in the middle of my trip. I woke Geoffrey up when I came out and told him I thought I was in labor. His eyes popped open and he asked if I was sure. Right then another contraction hit hard. They were getting much closer together! I almost panicked. Our bags were packed, but the kids were still asleep and at this rate, I was a little intimidated that we may not make it in time. Geoffrey got the kids up and we all got dressed and ready to go. I was working through each contraction to breathe through them, but while they were getting stronger and stronger, I was getting louder and louder.

During the drive to the hospital, the contractions went from being about every 4 minutes to every minute. Geoffrey kept telling me to relax and finally I snapped at him that I couldn't relax right now. So, he stopped trying to tell me to relax, but changed his coaching to encouragement. In the back seat, Samuel started telling me, "Just relax, Mommy." And Marianne started moaning like me. We finally got to the hospital where my mother-in-law was waiting to take the kids. She opened the door for me while I moaned and huffed and puffed and got out. She laughed and said, "I guess she decided to come on time." I couldn't even respond other than a nod. 

The security guards got me a wheelchair and one wheeled me up to labor and delivery. We got up there while I was breathing through the pain and the nurses who had been drinking their morning coffee hopped up to help me to a bed. When they heard that this was our third baby, they took everything that much more seriously. They called for the epidural twice while I screamed through each contraction and I don't know if I was more anxious for it or if they were more anxious for it. All my training to relax through the pain went out the window. I screamed through each pain and gripped the side of the bed each and every time. I could not make myself relax. I just couldn't do it.

I was thankful to see the anesthesiologist. And I remembered her from my labor with Marianne. I was so very glad to see her! Once I got my epidural, the nurses wrapped me up so I could labor down. About that time, my sister-in-law Brittney (who was also a nurse as well as pregnant herself) arrived and settled in. She had asked me before if she could watch. During her training as a nurse she hadn't gotten a chance to see a delivery and about to have a baby herself, she was curious. I was really glad she got there after the epidural took. I didn't want to scar her with all the screaming.

I remembered from my labor with Marianne that the urge to push can feel a lot like the need to poop, so the minute I had that feeling, I let the nurses know. There is something nice about having a third baby. Nurses take you very, very seriously. They called my doctor right away who came and asked if I was ready to push. She checked me and I told her that she would know better than I did. She "suited up" and said that we were ready and four pushes later Roselyn Joy arrived. 

When she was handed in to be weighed, my doctor guessed her to weigh 8 lbs 6 oz. No one could believe it when the scales read 9 lbs 12 oz. She was our biggest baby by a whole pound! And oh, goodness, she was a beautiful newborn. Such cubby cheeks! 

During my pregnancy I had had gallbladder pain and had scheduled it to be removed after Roselyn arrived. In the days that followed her birth, the pain only got worse and I began to stress about having surgery so soon after having a baby, but as the pain got worse (no matter when I ate) I began to look forward to the surgery. One thing God provided early, early on with this little baby girl is the ability to sleep really well. Even through her big sister's screaming in the same room, Roselyn would sleep and only stir a little. And overnight she would generally only wake once. She is the perfect newborn to have while recovering from surgery.

Our little chunky baby has gained back her birth weight and more and has started being awake more during the day which has bonded her more with her brother and sister. They're both anxious to help get the pacifier back in her mouth and look over her to make sure she hasn't spit up. There's no jealousy between siblings and so far the only adjustment is to Mommy's hormones and sleepiness-induced moodiness. There is so so much I'm thankful for--a new baby who we're getting to keep for awhile, siblings who love her, a husband who takes care of us all, and a baby who sleeps much better than most. God has provided so well for us that even though we do have some tough days and some days of adjustment that seem forever long, He is taking care of us still and has blessed us greatly.