One morning during the first week of May, I woke up feeling nauseas with a bad head ache. Kind of like a hangover, only I hadn't had any alcohol in months. I immediately knew what it was, but refused to believe it.
We were not trying to get pregnant. I did not want to be pregnant, possibly ever again. I hate writing that, but it's truth. After three positive pregnancy tests, though, it finally sunk in that this really was happening, and then (much to my shame) I cried for at least a week.
We've always used natural family planning as our birth control, with total success, but I'm pretty sure with all the changes my body went through on the Whole 30, my cycle changed and...well, ready or not, hello baby number 3!
I'm 11 weeks now, and I've wanted to write about my feelings and thoughts here for a month but just couldn't do it. I was in a negative state of mind. I felt ungrateful, ugly and bitter. And I want you to know before I go on, that I have struggled with infertility before. I have gone through two very difficult miscarriages, which I still mourn to this day. I've been the woman struggling to keep herself together as a friend told me about her surprise 3rd pregnancy that she felt overwhelmed and upset by, wondering if I would ever have even one baby. On too many occasions I've questioned God's judgement and fairness about how He distributes babies generously to some, and keeps them from other women who desire them so heart wrenchingly much. All I could think this last month was, "I don't want to rub anyone the wrong way with my personal battles." So I've stayed quiet.
With that being said, and an apology to anyone I might offend, I have to honestly say - yes, I am overwhelmed. And I have at times during the last 2 months been very depressed. And there have been really ugly moments where I wished I could wish this pregnancy away. And I still wake up in the middle of the night in panic sometimes, wondering "how am I going to do this? I can't do this."
The God I love and obey is infinitely loving and patient. Goodness, He is so patient with me, and I feel that loving patience (that I do not deserve) the most in my moments of feeling lost, immature and faithless. The last couple of months has been a constant running conversation like this:
Me: I can't do this.
God: I will help you do this.
Me: I'm terrified.
God: I will never leave you.
Me: I really can't do this.
God: We're doing this now, together.
Before I went to the doctor for the ultrasound, I tried to calculate my due date using one of those calculators online. When that date popped up, that was a life changing, special moment that only God could orchestrate to penetrate my heart.
You see, Olive and Silas were both born the first week of April. Both of my miscarriages would have been due in early January, their due dates within days of each other. My due date for this baby is January 5, 2014. It doesn't sound like much, and maybe it's not as significant to anyone as it is to Matt and I, but in that moment it was like His hands were squeezing my shoulders and He was saying "I have this all under control. I haven't missed one single detail of your life. I've loved and taken care you then, and I will always love and take care of you in the future. You can trust Me."
It's going to be good - scary, probably difficult at times, but good. I believe it.
The drawing up top was done for me by my good friend Lisa, over at My Little Buffalo. She does adorable work! Check her out!