A Sinner? My Child?

I am in dismayed shock. As she arches her back, face screwed into an angry scowl, I contemplate her behavior, looking for a rationalization to sweep away what I'm seeing. But the determined look on her face, the deliberate kicks and the stiff body all point to one thing --- a child bent on her own way. Yes, it's true, I sadly realize, my child is a sinner, too. There's no escaping the reality, no more putting off the truth. I have a job ahead of me, the quality of which will make or break the person she will become. Discipline is not something that comes easily to my nature, so the task at hand seems daunting. Yet I am convinced of the dire necessity of engaging in the battle -- the battle for my child's heart and soul. Convinced, yes. I know what needs to be done. But strong enough to do it? Now there's another matter.

"Lord, give me the strength to do what I know I ought to do, to not sacrifice my child's well-being for my own comfort. I would rather not discipline, but You have charged me with this great responsibility. My child's life depends on it. Help me in my weakness to grab hold of Your enabling grace and find the courage to do my duty before You."

It's the Little Things

Waving. Jacie has started waving. Quite unexpectedly, she raised her arm in a floppy salute in response to a friend's wave while at the mall a few weeks ago. And like a very stereotypical first-time mom, I went nuts. Over the past few weeks, I've encouraged her efforts so that now, in addition to waving when she's prompted, she waves at me when she wants me to pick her up, when I'm feeding her, when I'm changing her diaper -- all without being prompted.

My favorite development so far -- hands down.

JOY

ust about a year and a half ago I was lamenting my childless state in the following note dated June 2009:
Is grief too strong a word for the ache of missing what one has never had? Or is it merely disappointment? Can I really hold up my experience to one who has lost a loved one? Put it in the same category? I shrink from doing so. Yet grief is the word that comes to mind when emotion swallows me, leaving me inert and helpless against its onslaught. Grief catches me off guard when I sit or work in a quiet house, even though it's the same quiet that's always been there. Grief assails me sometimes when I turn my key in the lock, opening the door into the emptiness that lately seems yawning. No shoving it aside, stuffing it down, or looking at it from a different angle lessens its intensity.
Now it's Christmas time 2010. And I feel a quiet joy steal over me. Last year at this time I was pregnant, but still holding my breath, hardly daring to hope that I might have a child-in-arms when all was said and done. And even now, over the last five months of our darling baby's life, I feel as though I've been letting my breath out slowly, relaxing into the fulfillment of dreams come true and finally allowing myself to freefall in love with my little girl -- To really love her so much that the joy bubbles, frothes, and overflows...
Can it really be? Can this perfect little girl be mine? The eyes that shine like dark gems, the nose-crinkling smile, the sweet giggle that escapes the rosebud mouth – are these really all a part of a child that I call my own? The thought overwhelms me when I feel her baby-smooth skin against my cheek, when I smell her sweet milky scent, when she looks up at me so seriously with those child-wise eyes and then breaks into a brief, dazzling smile. Why me? And how me? How can this great happiness be mine? Marriage to a man who I am so in love with and now a child to complete our home – for so many years these were just distant dreams. And yet here I am, where I was doubtful I'd ever be, living what I once thought to be an unattainable dream.
"Dear Heavenly Father, Help me to savor the joy as a gift from You, yet hold these same gifts with an open hand, understanding that all I have is Yours to do with as You will."

Jacie Nevaeh

And so after a relatively uneventful pregnancy ( if you don't count water retention resulting in swollen face, legs, and feet; gestational diabetes requiring finger pricks multiple times daily and a strict diet; and numbness/tingling in both hands), induction was scheduled for my due date, July 20, 2010. I prayed that she would come naturally, but, honestly the pessimistic side of me thought, "Why would I be so lucky?" Then again God's grace shamed and humbled me as I woke up on Wednesday, July 14 at 4 AM with definite contractions -- not the uneven cramping I'd experienced on Sunday, but timed, regular, countable contractions. I woke Conroy up at about 6 AM and we discussed when we should call the doctor. My water broke around 7 AM, urging us to make the call. Per directions, I showered and took my time getting ready so that we left the house around 8:30 AM. As soon as I reached the hospital, I began asking for an epidural, sure that I would not be able to bear the pain on my own. Around 1 PM that finally happened, just as the contractions were becoming toe-curling. The immediate relief from pain made for a quiet, relaxing afternoon as Conroy and I chatted, watched TV and solidified our decision of Jacie's name (Kiera Jewel or Jacie Nevaeh?)

Then at 8 PM, the grand moment arrived. Nurses and the doctor came into the room and started me with the process of pushing. At this point, the epidural was only offering minor relief. As a lady in another screamed, the nurse casually mentioned "... and she had an epidural."

"Don't tell me that!" I blurted, but then mentally pushed the fear of pain from my mind. There was no going back now. One way or the other, this baby was coming out! At one point in the midst of the two-hour blur of pushing, working harder than I'd ever done in my life, I thought and voiced "I can't do this anymore! It's too hard." The nurse repeated the refrain of the past hour " You're almost there! We can see the head." "Yeah, sure," I thought. "That's what you have to say..."

"Well," I remember thinking. "She's gotta come at some point, and I'm surely closer than I was when I began." Then I would look at Conroy's face and see the excitement there. I wanted to laugh in fond amusement at how like my own personal cheerleader he was as he would call out, "You can do it! She's almost out! I can see her head!"

Then, in a blur that I can't even recall, it was over and she was crying on the table next to me as they cleaned her up. I remember looking at her after they gave her to me and feeling an odd detachment. Who is this person? How can she really be my daughter? The word seemed strange to me....

God's Timing

In October of 2009, I began praying Hannah's prayer in 1 Samuel: "God give us a child, a son, that we may give him back to you..." Whether by adoption or by pregnancy, it didn't matter. November found me taking yet another disappointing pregnancy test all the while insisting to myself.... "it feels different this time." My sense of smell, never great, was amazingly strong, a symptom I'd never experienced before. But the pregnancy test must be right.... it had always been so before. Around Veteran's Day, I came down with a bad bronchial infection. I didn't know that's what it was, just that the fever and chills had given way to a tightness in my chest that worried me. So I went to the doctor's. Just before the x-ray, I mentioned that I'd just like to be sure I wasn't pregnant. Sure of another (or the same) negative result, Conroy and I chatted nonchalantly while waiting for the doctor to return, give us the negative answer, and proceed with the x-ray. Instead, she walked in with a smile and a hearty "Congratulations!" Dumbfounded, Conroy and I repeatedly pressed her, "What? Are you sure?" She probably thought we were a little crazy, but I could hardly think straight beyond the swell of emotion that suddenly filled my throat and my eyes. Our dreams come true and prayers answered-- a baby!