I have had intentions of updating my blog for a long while, but have not had the time to sit down and actually do it. Work and life seem to take up all of my time. But today I felt motivated and ready to get this blog rebooted again. You see, I’ve been really giddy lately. The culprit behind such embarrassing giddiness is so big and yet so small at the same time. It’s the size of a tomato to be exact. You see, on June 19th of this year, I peed on a stick and screamed bloody murder which resulted in my husband running to the bathroom with eyes the size of baseballs thinking I was dying. You see, I’m pregnant.
I think the reason behind this long blog hiatus has been a true journey. My silence is deeply rooted in a mixture of fear, respect for the intricate delicacy of pregnancy, and a little slice of humble pie. I miscarried this past March, and almost simultaneously several fantastic women around me also lost their babies. All of them are lovely women who love their husbands, and want so badly to raise healthy families. The stork was on strike, and I felt possibly more disheartened than I’ve ever felt before. I begged God for that peace He says only He can give and that I can’t really understand fully. He was generous to my husband and I. I felt at peace. The thing that kept me sane (because reasoning with God on the injustices of life, can drive one to madness and loss of mental capacities), was the realization and constant reminder that there is a bigger picture in everyone’s life. A picture that God ultimately molds into something more beautiful than anything we could possibly imagine for ourselves. And I knew that was a truth for me, and all of the people suffering around me. Taking the focus off of my own pain, and placing it on all my friends and co-workers who life had not been gentle to was essential in my recovery.
My past experience with pregnancy has taught me so many valuable lessons. Besides growing my faith in a God I don’t always understand but always always always trust, I learned the true fragility of pregnancy. I learned to respect how easily, from one day to the next, it can all be over. But I guarantee you, a lesson learned means another
struggle – I mean, chance for growth lays ahead. And for me, that struggle, was fear. Oh the tangly webs we weave in our lives, don’t we? I was filled, spilling over, losing sleep, with fear that this horrible and emotionally and physically painful experience would repeat itself again. I detached myself from this pregnancy for the longest time. It was almost a coldness I felt at first. I took care of myself and did everything I needed to do, but that’s where the care ended. I didn’t talk about it, and tried to put on a happy facade when it was time to tell our closest loved ones early on. The fact that I went through terrible nausea, weight loss, and a dysfunctional sleeping pattern my first 9 weeks kind of helped in keeping me disconnected from the being inside of me. I was terrified, and this is how I dealt with it. I didn’t even talk to God about my distress for fear that His answer would be “no”. I knew if His answer was “no” it would be “no” whether I asked it to be “yes” or not, because whether or not I actually talked to Him, He knew what my deepest desire was. He heard what I couldn’t put into words, and I wanted no other picture for my life, but the one He is painting – even though at the moment I wanted this one pixel of the picture to go my way so badly.
As my first trimester came to an end, my fear gave way to humility and a hesitant gratitude. A very tiny change began inside me. I was at the same point where the pregnancy of a few women around me had come to an abrupt end. I continued to remain detached, and prohibited myself from dreaming; but I was humbled when I woke up every single morning still pregnant. I would sheepishly whisper “thank you”, and go about my day.
I am still humbled to this very day. Because 19 weeks into this experience, my now tomato-sized bundle of joy is still with us. But until I hold this baby in my arms, I will continue to take things one day at a time, thanking God for giving me one more day with this little person, and humbly dedicating my joy to all these wonderful women I keep talking about.
My heart goes out to every single woman who has lost a child, especially during pregnancy, and to all of those who are still pregnant. The final and lifelong lesson: humility. I will never stop being humbled. Humbled of being pregnant, humbled of being a mom, humbled of whatever comes.
I want humility to be THE constant disclaimer of all my future entries regarding my preparations for a new family member. At this point, fear has given way to hope. So please share in this experience with me. This pregnancy may not succeed, but as long as God keeps answering “yes” in the morning, I will be happy.