What says "welcome baby girl!" more than pink walls? This weekend we were blessed to have several good friends come over and paint our baby's room for us. I sat in the room today, the empty pink room. I looked around and just took it all in, the room, what the room means, the thought of who will soon occupy the room, the little blessing that makes this room necessary, and all the girly pinkness of it. I felt happy, relieved to check another task off my ever increasing to do list. I also was struck by the permanence of it. There they were staring me right in the face, pink walls, a permanent mark on our house that will forever shout that a baby girl was expected for this room. Sure, I can always paint over it, but the proof will be there beneath the surface never the less. Her mark on this house, proof of her existence will always be here. I feel sad and scared. Sad that I can't just paint my baby's room and feel excited about it. Scared that even now, with just 9 weeks to go, what if we don't end up needing a pretty pink room? I can't help the tears that slip past my eye lids even as I write this, a mixture of joy, disbelief and fear.
My therapist once asked me at what point in my pregnancy would I finally feel confident that everything would be OK with the baby. I answered her, "When she is born." And this is the realization I have come to, pregnancy after a loss is hard, unbelievably hard. Pregnancy after six losses is almost as hard as the losses themselves were. You feel so much pressure to enjoy it and take in every moment because you know what a blessing and gift it is. You know how many other mothers are out there hurting and longing for a baby, grieving for ones they have lost. You know their pain and you know how incredibly blessed you are so you should be thankful, you should be happy. And you are. But you are also terrified. You are stressed. Simple decisions like should I get the flu shot or not keep you awake at night, even though you know you should. But you are scared to do anything at all while you are pregnant. You lay on the couch and anxiously wait for your baby to start kicking. You become panic stricken when she doesn't and then feel silly a few hours later when she is clearly learning how to kick box in there. People ask how you are feeling all the time and you lie and say "oh good" or "I'm tired and have a lot of heartburn, but otherwise I feel pretty good" when all the while you only think about how emotionally hard it is on you and you know that is not what they meant when they asked the question and they are not prepared for the real answer to "How are you feeling?" Most of all, you just want this baby here, safe and healthy. You love that you are pregnant and carrying this little life but the emotional tole is becoming very heavy and you just want her here. You want to look at your pink walls and only feel joy, not because you are expecting a baby girl to be sleeping in there soon, but because she is and she is here and she is perfect.
Pregnancy after a loss is hard and the more losses you endure the harder the subsequent pregnancies become. It has taken me almost my whole pregnancy to learn this, something that can really be applied to many situations in life and that is this...It's OK that it's hard. It's OK that I am scared. It's OK that this is not the ideal pregnancy I hoped it would be. It's all OK. Accept it and embrace that this is the pregnancy I have, hard though it may be, it's mine and it's bringing a miracle into this world. It has taught me faith and patience. It has taught be to press into God and put trust in Him like never ever before in my life. It has taught me what it feels like to step out of the boat and know my survival depends on Jesus alone and how to cling to Him with the smallest amount of energy I have left. And it has taught me that the smallest I have is enough, enough for Him and He will fill the gaps for me. It has taught me that one child does not replace another and that is how I know they were each so precious to me, each individual baby that was lost was a baby I loved and still grieve for even though I carry this one. I know this now for sure. And strangely this mess of a pregnancy is beautiful. It is a mess of a mother who is scared and weak and weary, and hopeful and faithful and relentless in her pursuit of her dream. It is a mess of tears and stress and sleepless nights and knowing it really will be a miracle if this baby survives nine months inside this crazy lady, and it is weeping tears of joy at the very thought of finally seeing her and holding her, it is thanking God for the little princess clad three year old who talks to my tummy and tickles the baby and sings her songs, It is the awe of seeing her on ultrasounds every week, it is the sheer joy that comes every single time I feel her move. It's crying alone in a pink room, it's starring at those pink walls and slowly starting the process of tearing down walls of fear and sadness around my heart. It's a mess. It's mine. It's beautiful.
It's OK to be sad. It's OK to be happy. It's OK to just feel what I feel. It's OK that pregnancy is hard for me. It's OK because God has removed the walls that stood between us and our long awaited baby. He has removed the walls between defeat and victory. He is removing the walls between my pain and healing and He has made pretty pink walls a reality in our home. He has made this life, Vivienne, and whatever mess it makes out of me to get her here is just simply OK.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
No comments:
Post a Comment