A few months into marriage we were concerned that I had become pregnant and miscarried while taking (and because of) birth control pills. It was a reeling event for us and sent us to our knees one afternoon. I will never forget that day. Brad heard the Lord about us not using any form of birth control and the word “faith.” I stopped taking the pill and we had a positive pregnancy test just a couple months later. Enter Zoë Faith Thompson on August 30, 2005, just thirteen months after our wedding.
Fast forward to May 23, 2010: a positive pregnancy test! I felt great for almost seven weeks and then the chaos began. Our children started hitting some rough patches in their personalities/character/obedience. I felt horrible – all day and every day – and spent my entire life laying on the couch or in bed, barely able to take care of dirty diapers and lunch time. Our house was held together by strands of cleaning and maintenance only because my husband carried the extra weight. My kids watched hours and hours of television daily. It was a miserable existence for everyone in our house.
To make matters worse, something dark began creeping into the crevices of my mind. I started regretting the pregnancy. I started despising the timing of a third child and the responsibility it would require. I couldn’t believe our lapse in judgment when the two kids in my house were already taxing my everything. I started hoping that I would miscarry. Please, just start cramping and bleeding. Make this stop. I scheduled my first OB appointment but here’s the honest truth: I wanted to get an abortion and tell my husband I had miscarried. Here I was, wondering where to find the closest Planned Parenthood clinic, when I could be the voice of the pro-life movement. I had zero excitement about this baby, no love, no nothin’ for this thing inside me. It was a dark, dark place.
When we had some questionable blood work come back (read those details here), I was sure that my feelings, or lack thereof, had been a type of protection or guard against becoming too attached to a baby we were going to lose anyway. The specialist recommended starting an anti-depressant to cope with my emotions but we declined. The ultrasound showed a healthy baby but after buying dresses with frills and picking a girl’s name, and to add to my depressive state, we were told it was a boy. Oh boy.
Months went by, then breakthrough. Teeny, tiny breakthrough.
I heard the gentle voice of God in one of the most audible ways I’ve ever heard Him. This baby boy would be for my heart and my joy. I heard The Voice, and the light broke through but I still lingered in the shadows. I held onto that line of truth with the most desperate hope imaginable. I had to remind myself, repeating it over and over and over. I constantly struggled at even acceptance at having this child. It wasn’t until Tucker was in my arms that I felt love for him.
Today marks the one year anniversary of that positive pregnancy test and a journey that has changed me as a mom and as a woman. It took a long, long time but the love I now have for Tucker is overwhelming at moments and I can't imagine my life without his chubby little cheeks and gummy grin. He is beyond a blessing in my life, despite the sacrifices of my schedule, body, and mental capacities. He was, and is, and will always be worth it.
This post is for the women who have suffered in silence with this issue. My heart extends to the women out there who struggle with the reality of having more children, when regret and sorrow take root, and when a life, once wanted, is suddenly the inconvenience of a lifetime. Press on, moms, you will have the strength, capacity, love, and grace you need for all your children.
0 comments:
Post a Comment