Kiss Your Miracle

This weekend Adam installed a Nerf mini-basketball hoop in our living/dining room. We are now officially ready for our son to arrive.

I’ve hit that point in my pregnancy where I make certain people nervous. On Tuesday I had an appointment with the eye doctor, who seemed to be on edge from the minute he saw my belly. He asked about my due date and when I said it was a week away, he responded, “Oh, well, we’ll be sure to have you right on out of here as soon as possible.” I told him I went a week overdue with my first and still had to be induced, but he kept staring at me like my water was about to burst all over his newly carpeted floor. I ended up with my quickest eye exam ever.

More and more people are asking me how I’m doing and I have a simple answer to that question: I’m waiting. Sometimes patiently, like late at night when I crawl into bed exhausted. “I want to have this baby soon, God,” I’ll pray as I close my eyes, “but not tonight. Tonight I just want to sleep.” And sometimes impatiently. Like when I’m driving home after a visit to the midwife, who’s told me once again that everything looks “the same as last week.” I know everyone will want a report and it’s not fun to share that there isn’t one. Sky “helped” me pack my hospital bag two weeks ago, and I can’t even remember what’s in it anymore (don’t worry though – we took her stuffed animals out before we put my things in).

It’s hard to wait, especially these days when inductions and c-sections are so common. I get why people are induced as soon as their doctors are willing – the last few weeks of pregnancy are difficult and I’m sometimes tempted to go that route myself. But I think if I was induced now or even on Tuesday (my estimated due date), I’d be disappointed later, especially if I ended up with a long, slow, medicated birth. I figure my body at least deserves a reasonable chance to go into labor on its own. The thought of still being pregnant ten days from now is not a happy picture in my mind, but I’m trying not to dwell on that too much. I can handle being pregnant right now and that’s all I plan to think about today.

I’ve been a bit emotional lately. I suppose that’s normal when you’re nine months pregnant and spend your days chasing after a high-energy toddler. It might even be healthy considering both my father and one of my best friends recently passed away. But the times when I find my eyes filling with tears usually take me off guard. The other day I started crying because my back hurt – not from the pain itself, but because my dad struggled with intense back pain during the last year of his life and I was suddenly overwhelmed by just how awful that must have been for him.

I’ve been a little stressed too. Birth is unpredictable. You can only plan for it so much, and that’s hard for a person like me who doesn’t really like surprises. There’s also been a lot on the calendar lately, and with just a week till my due date I’m entering that phase where I want to do nothing but sleep until the baby comes. Since that obviously isn’t possible right now, I’d at least like to stay home as much as I can. Even little errands are now a major effort.

So I wasn’t looking forward to my agenda this morning – Sky’s eighteen month check-up with the pediatrician, which included two vaccines and a heel prick. Every time I thought about it yesterday I’d get this twisty, churning sensation in my stomach. With my fragile emotions, I figured I’d end up in tears right along with Sky and I was dreading it.

But I actually didn’t cry at all. The only thing running through my mind as Sky’s screams echoed through the office was this: a quick injection is better than a long, drawn-out case of the mumps. My ability to think logically in that moment shocked me. Overall, it was a rough morning, especially for Sky. She didn’t stop crying until she was asleep in her crib at home. But we accomplished our goal, checked the appointment off the list, and I was able to keep myself from spilling my wild emotions all over the pediatrician. Today, I consider that success.

With my due date a week and a half away, it suddenly occurred to me that I won’t be pregnant much longer. It’s a thrilling fact – hopefully within the next few weeks I’ll be holding a healthy baby boy in my arms. I also can’t say I’ll miss the aches and pains of the third trimester, the endless trips to the bathroom, or the way people now stare at my tummy before making eye contact with me.

As each day passes, I’m more ready to have this baby. But I’m also very aware that life, especially unborn life, is fragile. I can’t help but think of two friends of mine dealing with the grief of recent miscarriage, and others who are still waiting for that first positive pregnancy test. I hope Adam and I are blessed with more children in the future, but I don’t assume it will happen, especially not according to a time frame we’ve planned. If God chooses to give us these two kids and no more, then we’ll be grateful and satisfied – it’s really not hard to get there when we thought at one point we might not have children at all. And with that in mind, I can’t help but consider these last days of pregnancy a treasure. Sometimes I think even now the discomfort of pregnancy is starting to fade from my mind, replaced by the overwhelming excitement of welcoming a new life into the world.

For the past week my mind’s been on overdrive – first spinning with thoughts of Jill and her family and then with the earthquake in Haiti, on top of my preoccupation with my pregnancy and due date, which is now two weeks away.

The other night we were watching the news coverage in Haiti as a doctor interviewed a young woman sitting outside, holding a three month old. “What are you feeding your baby?” the doctor asked. “Sugar water,” she said flatly. The doctor then turned to the camera and said that a young baby who’s fed nothing but sugar water will eventually die of malnutrition. “But even if I had a can of formula,” the doctor continued, “I couldn’t give it to her because it would start a riot.” That mother isn’t the only one without food for her baby.

Of course, my eyes immediately filled with tears. I feel connected to that mom, who would probably sacrifice anything she had to give her baby what she needs. I’ve also been thinking about all the pregnant women in Haiti right now, some of them with the same due date as mine. What will happen when they go into labor? Will they have access to a midwife and a clean place to give birth? What if there are complications? And how many of these new babies will end up really sick? The questions are endless.

To be completely honest, I’m not sure specifically how to respond to the disaster in Haiti. It’s hard to get beyond the sadness of what’s happened. So today I’m praying for a simple thing: that God will give me the ability to have faith that He can bring good – miracles even – out of horrific circumstances.