Not three weeks ago, on our monthly Costco run our family dropped off a carload of baby things to an impoverished woman who is pregnant with triplets. I connected with her through Craig’s List where I was planning on selling said baby things. She has a post imploring people for help, she was recently homeless and just got into a welfare apartment and is in desperate need of baby things. As I unloaded the trash bags bursting with baby clothes and the bouncy chairs I was almost giddy at the prospect of closing this chapter in my life. No more pregnancies. No more gestational diabetes. Now I can move into a new season of motherhood. This is going to be great. I was thinking these quaint little thoughts as we drove away from the mounds of baby things. Little did I know that, at that time, I was about 5 weeks pregnant.
About a week after the baby item purge, I had an extremely vivid dream. In that dream a friend of mine asked me if I was pregnant. For some reason, this really upset me and I spent the rest of the morning trying to shake the feeling. That evening, as I was filling up the tub for Jamie’s bath I happen to see an old (probably antique) pregnancy test in the bathroom drawer. I remembered the dream and thought that just or kicks I may as well try it out. I used the test, plunked baby Jamie in the tub and turned to see the result. I was 100% positive that this test would come up negative so you can imagine my shock (and colorful words) when I beheld a positive test.
With shaking hands I opened the bathroom door and screamed for Andrew. He came pounding up the stairs, “Did Jamie poop in the tub?!” He said with a look of terror. (Not sure why he would come for that, as I am the resident pooper scooper.) Wordlessly, I pointed at the test as if it were a dead rat on the floor or maybe the black spot from Treasure Island. His eyes locked on the positive sign, then we stared together at that pee stick in stunned silence.
The silence was interrupted by a sudden outburst of laughter. Startled, I watched Andrew laugh long and loud until his face turned red. I wondered if this was that emotional breakdown I have been waiting for. Then with great mirth in his eyes he looked at me and said, “Why not add a fifth kid in the mix?” He told me that he was happy and even excited. Looking back, I am ashamed to say that I may have burned a hole through his jolly little soul with the look I gave him. He hugged me and told me that everything was going to be alright, because it always was. And, anyway, after all that we have been through this is small fries.
If there is one thing I should know as a mother of a child with a heart disease; you cannot assume, plan or know what is around the corner. Life is very tentative for us. But sometimes I fall into an old pattern of thinking. Sometimes, I see something that seems slightly stable or certain and I stubbornly plant my feet on that thing. But the rug always gets pulled out from under me. In this case, that thing was the idea of having no more children. After our Jamie was born, both Andrew and I felt God leading us to consider this our last child. This was a blow to me because I had always dreamed of having a large family. In time, though, I began to love the idea of having only four kids. After all, my dreams would be much easier to pursue with a smaller family.
But here I am 8 weeks along and feeling like whomever termed the phrase “morning sickness” really didn’t grasp the 24 hour nature of this nausea thing. I am on bedrest due to a subchorionic hemorrhage, no lifting and little activity. My house looks like it have been barfed on by Toys R Us and there are dishes for days. I was just getting a handle on this four kids thing and now I am back to square one again. And I am okay. It’s true that I moped around the house for a good week after I found out the news but now that I am used to the idea I am genuinely happy. Blessed even. Of course, there is still that nagging fear. What if I have another heart baby? But all in all God, is washing me with peace beyond understanding and those worries are dismissed almost as soon as they are formed. Also, I am not so mad at God anymore, which is a better place to be.
As one of my favorite mothers in the world, Laura, pointed out to me.
Just remember when you get nervous about having one more little angel to juggle, that babies are only ever wonderful gifts from God and any fear you have is the devil trying to steal the awe and gratitude we give God for blessing us with one more bundle of love. Btw I kinda am hoping for another boy for you guys, one step closer to the Pontipee brothers love you friend and I am so happy to hear this. You just made my day!
She’s right on all counts. Perfect love casts out fear. And, if you have seen 7 Brides for 7 Brothers, then you get the Pontipee reference. My crew definitely fits the cast.
Hide your daughter’s folks! And bless your beautiful hides. (See the movie, this will all make sense to you.)
How about you? Has God thrown you any good curve balls lately? Comment below! Let’s be an open book together.