Dear Mother Yet-To-Be,

I can hear the ache in your heart. It echos loudly in mine -

because I was once a mother yet-to-be.

I understand the longing unfulfilled, the questions, the pain. You wonder why you’ve yet to be chosen. . .chosen to lavish love on another like only you could. You wonder why you must wait while countless others go before you.

Oh how I understand. How I know the deep well of longing that often drowns all other aspects of life.

Your heart begs to know. . .What is so wrong with wanting to love with a mother love? How could this request go unnoticed. . . unanswered for so long?

You find yourself treading the path of bitterness and empathy yet you fight to keep your joy…

your peace…

your hope.

Oh dear mother yet-to-be, if I could I would kneel down to where you are, hold your face gently in the cup of my hands and wipe away your longing tears. I would whisper softly. . .

Mothers aren’t chosen. They are born.

They are born the moment a woman begins to long for life.

And as the Heavenly Father begins to fill your heart with hope, I would boldly say. . .

Stand.

Stand up dear mother. Stand up and fight for your family.

Let His faithful heart of favor reveal His plan for your children. . .

Then rise up with your mother heart and walk in confidence to contend for what is yet t0 be.

Because it will be.

{This post is part of the Mother Letters link up. I encourage you to check out this beautiful and powerful book written by several amazing mothers with a heart to minister to YOU and me.}

Many of you already know my story but I had the great privilege to guest post for my friend Shelley Hendrix this week, sharing how hope changed everything in my life. Shelley is the lovely brains and heart behind Church 4 Chicks, a wonderful ministry to women in the Atlanta area. God is doing great things through her ministry and you may be able to find Church 4 Chicks in your area sometime soon. We’ll also be seeing other things from Shelley like a brand new book coming in the next year. I’ll be sure to tell you about it when the book is available.

Hope Changes Everything

My daughter’s name is Hope . . . because her life came after a season of longing, waiting, suffering and loss. I had always wanted children and I suppose I thought my mere desire would lead to its reality. I never imagined I would have to contend for something that God created me to be – a mother. After being diagnosed with PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome), I knew my journey to motherhood would be longer than the average girl. Two years and two miscarriages later, Hope was born.

Through the process I learned so much about my relationship with Christ. Although I did not want to imagine going through anything worse than I had been through, I remember feeling a sense that this was preparing me for some greater trial.

We simply don’t know what the Lord is going to require of us. . .

{Hop on over to www.shelleyhendrix.org to read more. . .}

Both Dr. Rupe and I have the great privilege of walking through life with a dear friend, Donna. She has been there for both of us through joy and pain. This past month she shared a piece she wrote with Dr. Rupe in mind. I can honestly say she took the words right out of my heart. I weep every time I read these words because I have been on the receiving end of this sweet and honest, “I’m sorry. . .”

I pray that those who have experienced or will experience loss have the gift of a provider who feels your grief. If not, know that we do and we pray for you often (even if we don’t know your name). And most of all -  the giver of life. . .the One who knows your name. . .knows your pain and He loves you.

Thank you Donna for so beautifully expressing something so many of us have walked through. You are a treasure.

“I’m sorry,” she said, as she bowed her head, then looked up into my eyes.
The words she said, caused my heart to dread and I began to cry.

Her credentials gave her authority, her practice showed success.
The office ran efficiently, with staff and partners who impressed.

Her coat of white or scrubs of green, were symbolic of how she’d trained.
Skilled and talented, a gift it seemed, for a practice of joy and pain.

“I’m sorry…” She used no fancy phrases to hide her own unease.
No empty words, no false assurances, her own pride to appease.

“I’m sorry…” No sweeter words, nor more with power when said with such humbled heart.
For I saw she knew, from her own past pain, how deeply my loss hurt.

“I’m sorry…” Shining eyes from tears unshed, with a tender touch to my hand.
She eased the sting of truth she shared, and comforted instead.

My hopes now crushed, my dreams now gone, she could have dashed away.
“I’m sorry,” she said, with a broken voice, then sat next to me and stayed.

So, when finally I left, new plans to be made I walked slowly down the hall.
Where pictures of life I’d never hold lined almost every wall.

But her door was cracked, the room was dark with just enough light to see.
There her Bible open, and tissue in hand; I heard faith filled words for me.

No way to fix my brokenness or change my heart deep feelings.
But in that moment, paused in time, her prayer began my healing.

dmh 6/2011

Our Family

Last week Dr. Rupe asked if she could do a post about my delivery. She wasn’t sure if I would have time in these first few, crazy weeks to blog about Joshua’s birth. I was excited to read her point of view on the day’s events and I believe she captured it perfectly (with one exception, according to his birth certificate, he was actually born at 4:56pm, not 4:57 but close enough). I’m sitting here in the stillness of my living room. . .filled with diapers and wipes, baby gear and antibacterial gel, and one, little, precious, sleeping baby boy (Hope is at mother’s day out today) so I thought I would take this quiet time to also reflect on my son’s birth. Thank you for allowing me to be self-indulgent on this blog. As I’ve mentioned before, I abandoned my personal blog (which had become a sort of journal for me) to focus on The Pregnancy Companion so I appreciate you letting me share my heart here on personal experiences. At least they are pregnancy related.

As Dr. Rupe said, on Saturday morning, July 2 I texted her because I thought my water had broken. It’s important to note that I was already 4cm dilated and 70% effaced at my last appointment so I had reason to suspect I might go into labor at any moment. Since I was induced last time, I had no idea what going into labor would actually feel like. I was apprehensive about my water breaking spontaneously. So many friends had different stories to tell but many said it was more like a leak than a gush of fluid. They also said it merely felt like they pee’d in their pants a little bit. Having done that before during my pregnancy (you can read that story and how it led to the creation of this book here) I just wasn’t sure I’d know the difference. I woke up Saturday morning and decided to take a shower and get ready, just in case. I felt like it might be the day because I was having mild but pretty regular contractions the night before. As I stood in the shower drying off, I felt some leaking. Could this be my water leaking or did I just pee on myself again? I got out and got dressed and as I was doing my hair, it happened again. But this time it was greater. I felt like I had total control of my bladder so I decided this was it. I texted Dr. Rupe to let her know. She told me to come on in.

We arrived at the hospital and they hooked me up. My amazing nurse, Rachel eventually checked me and said my water had in fact not broken as there was no presence of amniotic fluid that they could detect. I was, however, having pretty regular contractions so she would call Dr. Rupe to see what she wanted to do. I knew the U2 concert was just hours away and I told myself if I was going to have this baby and not ruin her evening with Bono, that I had to be in labor by 10am. We were a bit past my personal deadline and as much as I was ready to have this baby, I was sure Dr. Rupe would send me home to wait for more active labor to begin. To my surprise she decided to go ahead and put me on Pitocin as I was in the early stages of labor. She must have known it was a risk. . .that I might not deliver quite fast enough for her to make it to see U2, but my sweet friend and physician also knew that if she sent me home, I might just end up back there that night. We were definitely rolling the dice!

I’ll spare you the details because she explained them very well. Pitocin started. Contractions kicked in. Water broken for real this time with a giant knitting needle (and when done this way it’s a HUGE gush, I don’t mind telling you). Epidural ordered. Contractions picking up. Epidural in but not working. Epidural dosed up. Finally some relief (for about an hour, enough time to watch one episode of Friday Night Lights, my new addiction). Finally dilated to 7. Nurse assures me it will go quickly now. I’m hoping to deliver by 6 or 6:30 but I know that’s pushing it.

As I entered transition (roughly 7-10cm dilation), the epidural wore off on my right side. They had me laying on my side so gravity could do it’s work but still no relief. My left side was dead to the world (due to all of the extra doses) but the right felt everything. For that hour between 7-10cm (the nurse was right, it did go fast thank you Jesus), I felt the pain and pressure of every intense contraction. I was not prepared to labor like that but my nurse and my husband were amazing coaches. They kept trying to get the epidural to fully kick in but no luck. Finally, Rachel announced it was time to get ready to start pushing. Dr. Rupe wasn’t yet in the room and I hoped after all this she didn’t miss it. I felt like he could come quickly. I was incredibly nervous about pushing a baby out without a working epidural. This is not what I had signed up for! As they got ready to position me Dr. Rupe walked in the room and I was so relieved to see her. The nurses got me on my back and almost immediately I felt a rush of peace come over my body. I felt so relaxed and the pain on my right side disappeared. I truly believe that Christ’s power rested on me in that delivery room (2 Cor 12:9, from chp 8 in the book). After 10 minutes and 3 rounds of pushing (through three contractions), I finally saw my baby boy. Miraculous.

I’ll add to Dr. Rupe’s list, the last five years have also included:

about 75 ultrasounds

7 HCG shots

amazing provision for the countless checks written to a fertility clinic

thousands of tears of loss and pain

a million petitions for life and a family

a deep, deep friendship born out of longing and hope

and now, a complete family with one spirited, beautiful little girl and a sweet, new baby boy. Oh how we are blessed beyond comprehension. And if I could go back and rewrite my story to remove the waiting, the loss, the emotional and financial burden and still have the same outcome – I would not. I truly believe the processes God allows us to walk through in our lives shape us and mold us into the people he intends for us to be. I know he wept with us along the way and now rejoices in our dreams fulfilled. I am so thankful he entrusted us with this story and I hope I can encourage others as they continue to allow him to write their own.

Thank you all for sharing this journey with me.

Love,

Jessica