Sometimes I forget.
In the middle of my need to control, to have it all in line, in the midst of the fear of the unknown, the fear of the past.
In the night when the dreams haunt me, when this baby is taken away from me, when I didn’t do things right and I don’t get to take him home.
When I wake up with a tear stained pillow and can’t remember what was so upsetting.
When I look up on the shelf and see the small, knitted boots my sons never wore.
As I read the birth books and listen to the audios and try so hard to grasp at any sense of control.
My son, my sons – they were His first. Not mine. And in reality, they are only mine ever so briefly. My real job is simply to guide them to Him in their earthly lives.
It’s ok for me to plan and prepare for this baby’s arrival. But I have to be so careful not to let it take such a huge priority that I forget whose hands this is all really in. Certainly not mine. I can only do so much before this birth/my fear becomes an idol above God, the one who blessed me with this child. That the birth takes a toll on me that He never intended.
In these past 8 months, God has truly heard my prayer about trusting him again. Something I have struggled so hard with. I believe in Him, I just didn’t believe Him. I didn’t trust in His plan so often, I simply couldn’t. All I could think about was why – why He didn’t intervene, why He let my sons die, why I had to go through all of that in the hospital – and would I have to go through it all again?
He’s blessed me beyond my comprehension this pregnancy, and I’m just now able to see it. Dear friends, people who love us enough to send gifts of all kinds, people who pray for us, people who rejoice in our passing weeks and still ache for the boys we didn’t get to bring home. I have been blown away by God’s faithful hand on this child – from the fairly normal pregnancy (especially compared to the other two), guiding us to the right doctors, finding a therapist that changed my life, an amazing doula, and allowing me to have my much needed reassurance – from weekly ultrasounds to a very active baby.
Little by little, I have started to trust again. It’s not easy, it isn’t “all better”, and I will forever have my moments/days/weeks of doubt and panic. But I can stop now, remind myself that I can only do so much. Then I have to trust. I have to trust that no matter what happens, God knows best. He knows how to carry me through it. As unfair as it might be. I don’t know what is in store for me or this child in the next 2-3 weeks. But I know He does. It’s already planned.
I have to be able to get ready and then let go of the rest. In the end, my children are His first – blessings I get to raise, miss, guide, cry for, and pray over.
“I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord.” 1 Samuel 1: 27,28