Up to this point, I've not written about our journey to Joy Baby. It is a long journey, with more depth of emotion than anything else in my life. As I've written in the past, we went through some really dark and difficult times before her conception and birth. The journey started with miscarriages-four in a row. Then, we walked through infertility. The concept of this is still close to mind boggling to me. Without any TMI, fertility was never even a thought for us. He looked at me...and that just about did it. My body was in a very weird state, and my hormones were trying to decide if I was still even a girl. So, for the craziest four months of my life (I serious started to doubt my sanity...), I was on fertility drugs. For the record, I fully understand that for most women, this doesn't even begin to cover what others have gone through to have a baby. For me, though, I couldn't take it anymore. I was done. The mood swings I had on those things were simply awful. In addition, the span of what I was on pretty much said if they didn't work in that time frame, it wasn't going to happen. For the first time in my life, I had all negative pregnancy tests. Nothing-not even a hint of a hint. So, I got down on my knees, cried out to the Lord, let Him know my heart was broken, but our #5 was His. We gave away over twenty boxes of baby/toddler clothes. And then, a month later...
You would think that after all this, I would have trusted that this Baby was meant to be. You would think I would have been confident that this little one would survive. Nope. It was a moment by moment battle at times for me to not completely freak out that Baby would die. I knew being worried was sinful, so I battled, but the battle was horrendous. I was so afraid of the "Cinderella Story." I didn't expect to finally have our much-desired baby, when so so many I knew could not even have one. I was afraid to rejoice, because I was so afraid of the pain of loss. I had been down the "loss road" before, and felt I had barely survived. I knew so many others definitely "deserved" a baby way more than I did.
Her pregnancy was my worst. I've never been sicker, and I had not had "easy" pregnancies before. I threw up throughout the entire nine months, to the point of throwing up blood due to intense heartburn. I could go on, but I won't, because for most people, pregnancy is no picnic. Then, her labor. Now, remember, I had done the labor thing four times previously. I had a 12lb. 3oz. baby boy without any pain meds, and did it without ever screaming. (Not that it felt great...) Not this time. Pitocin was not my friend, and when it finally kicked in, they gave me some drug to help ease the pain. The drug sent me to outer space. I was floating above my body, could feel every single stab of pain, had a Minnie Mouse head bouncing all over the room, and screamed like I've never screamed before. I couldn't stop, and honestly, I have no idea how she was born, because I could not do anything but scream. Then, she was here. They showed her to me, and she was purple. My first question about my long awaited daughter was, "Is she alive?" I honestly thought she was dead. I remember the shock on the nurses faces when I asked this, and will never forget the responses of understanding compassion they had. They wrapped her up, and placed her on me for just a few moments, as they were taking her to the NICU. I had never cried the first time I held one of my littles, but I sobbed over her. My mom took a picture, and it is one of my most treasured. Then, there was the NICU. Baby jail. (The nurses actually call it that...not those on that floor, though!) I got yelled at for picking her up. She kept popping out her IV's, so they ended up finally going through her belly button. Even that one almost popped out, even though there was a stitch to keep it in place. For five days, I stayed with her. I never left the hospital, but my husband and the other four had to be at home. Richard brought the kids for lunch one afternoon. When they left, my special guy did not understand why I wasn't with them. I hope I never again see the face, the tears, or hear the screams that he had that day.
Finally, we were home. Once again, you would think that I would be completely trusting that all would be well. Once again, it was a moment by moment battle for me to not worry about her. Between post-partum hormones, my own natural sinful fears, along with sleep deprivation, I was a wreck. When she was three months old, I was reading my Bible, and stopped to check on her. And that was it. I knew it had to stop. I named her out of Philippians-Joy and Grace. Yet, I had no joy, because I was constantly in fear, and never allowed God's grace to cover her...and me. She was His, whether I liked it or not, and I could not do one thing to adjust her life span-however long it was designed to be.
The irony is, my Joy Baby is in a virtual tie for my most difficult baby. She is a crazy picky eater, a horrible sleeper, is already in physical therapy, and is about to transition to Speech and Occupational therapy. She finally started walking at 17 months old, and has no words at 18 months. The only reason she is not my most difficult, is that I have a few more tools to handle her behavior.
Why did I write this? Because you don't post "this kinda stuff" on Facebook. You post a photo of a smile, or write something cute one of the kids did that day. You have 500 friends who see whatever façade you put out there. And that's not necessarily wrong, but there are so many who struggle. I'm not proud of my struggle, but it is real. I don't have it "all together." I'm so grateful for Christ, Who has patiently and lovingly walked me through each day. No, He is not my crutch, He is my stretcher. I am a desperate sinner who needs His extravagant grace. Why did He bestow this amazing gift on me? Because He is gracious and loving. Why doesn't He bestow the same gifts on so many of those who desperately desire the same thing? I don't know. What I do know: He has a plan. I also know the pain of getting through that plan is worth it. No, I am not thankful for the "yuck" I've had to go through. (Side note: I am not grateful for disease, miscarriage, infertility, autism, ....the yuck.) I am thankful, though, for what He taught me along the way, and is continuing to teach me as I walk the path He set out for me. I could not be more grateful for our Joy Baby. I love her with a fierce love, and will protect her with every ounce of my strength. And the Joy she has brought to our entire family is abundant.
