I have written and re-written some version of this blog post
in my head hundreds of times in the past few years, parts even before becoming
pregnant for the second time, but this is the first time I’ve actually put pen
to paper to try to get the thoughts down.
I suppose it is appropriate that it’s Mother’s Day and I’m reflecting on
the new life that will soon join us. In
nine days, on May 20, we will welcome our second daughter into the world (via repeat
c-section). I am filled with excitement
and anticipation and pure joy at the thought of meeting her and holding her in
my arms. But I’d be dishonest if I didn’t
also say that I’m full of worry and fear and anxiety. I guess, in part, I’m worried because that’s
simply what mothers do. But I know it’s
bigger than that, too. So, perhaps
putting words to some of what I have been turning over in my mind will give it
pause to rest and offer peace.
I worry because despite what the doctors say about the
apparent health of this child, despite the caution and extra measures that have
been taken, despite the statistical unlikelihood that there is anything
medically wrong with this child, I know that there are no promises. My eyes have been opened to the world of
difficult births, unseen emergencies and tough battles. I have followed more sick babies and
brokenhearted parents in the past three years than I could ever have imagined
that I would. I know that many of those children who are
born with a diaphragmatic hernia or a congenital heart defect or any one of a
thousand other diseases and conditions that most of the world has never heard
of are unsuspecting victims. Until there
is a baby in my arms, and she is not blue, and maybe even not then… it will be
hard for me to believe that anything about this will be typical. And so, I worry.
I’m afraid because I don’t know what life with an infant
looks like. No one really does, I guess,
but most people get to figure out a newborn for the first time when that’s all
they have to think about and focus on. I
feel like a strange mixture of a second time mother and a first time mother
because as much as I dream about and hope for it, I have no idea what it looks
like to bring a baby home from the hospital after three days. I don’t know what it is like to look after an
infant that’s not on full life support, or at least a few heart monitors. I don’t know how to nurse a child that hasn’t
been fed for months on an NG tube first or that doesn’t have every single
bodily action charted and recorded and analyzed. I don’t know how to relax into normal, even
though it’s what I want desperately to do.
Everyone who I share these fears with assures me that it will be just
fine, and while my brain says they’re probably right, I’m a little terrified at
the idea of being a mother to a typical newborn for the first time, while still
balancing life with a three year old. It’s
a bit overwhelming.
And that three year old.
She’s another cause for my concern.
Well, not her so much as the way that her life will ultimately impact
the life of her little sister. I think
that because I’m a second child myself, I’m extra aware of the struggles of
trying to live up to a big sibling’s legacy.
But just imagine that the legacy you’re trying to live up to is not just
good grades or athletic ability. Clara’s
whole life, she’s been put on a bit of a pedestal. She’s
a miracle. I can’t argue the point;
I believe with all my heart that she is a skipping, singing, bounding
miracle. What I need everyone to know is
that her sister is a miracle too. Please hear me when I say that I don’t want
for this child to ever feel like she was the “normal” one or the one who was
boring or somehow less desired by God just because she didn’t have to overcome
some insurmountable health crisis in her first days and weeks of life. When you see me at church or in the grocery
store or at the park and I have both my girls with me, please be aware of saying things like, “Is
this one the miracle?” or “Here’s the one who we all prayed for so much.” While that truth about Clara is one of the
greatest joys, sources of wonder, and grace-filled amazement of my life, I am
deeply concerned about what that label will do for both her and for her little
sister. Growing up is hard enough as it
is. Being told things like “God must
have great things in store for you,” or “You were really needed here on earth”
puts a pressure on Clara that is unfair and I’m afraid that it will send a
message to her sister that God doesn’t necessarily have great things in store
for her or that she was not needed on this earth. He does.
She is. She is a miracle, too.
With that all said, I’m mostly just excited about this
girl. In part because I don’t do
pregnancy particularly well, I am so very eager to have her on the outside and
begin getting to know her. This is very
likely our last child (please God!) and so despite the fact that I still vomit
nearly every day and that in this third trimester I’ve had some exceptionally
painful complications (just for me, not the baby), I’m trying to savor these
last few days with her inside of me. I
had such high fluid during my pregnancy with Clara that I did not always feel
her movements very strongly, but with this child I can feel every little nudge,
elbow and foot. She now gets hiccups
several times every day and I can feel her whole little body pulse inside of my
own. There’s not much about pregnancy
that I enjoy, but I’m treasuring these last few days and recognizing that this
thing of giving life to another is remarkable.
I have very few photos of me during my pregnancy with Clara,
but did have Robert snap
this one in
the last week or so. I’m so thankful
that I have it now. So, I asked my mom
to take a few of me and Clara and her baby sister when we were at the beach in
April for the same reason. Perhaps someday
I’ll look back and be glad that we have these, too.
Thanks for following us through this second journey too and
helping to celebrate this new life with the same excitement and love that Clara
was given. Thanks for extending grace
to me when I’m worried about the health of this child or strangely burdened by the
normalcy that is foreign to me. I am so
very excited to watch life with these two sisters evolve. We are blessed with these miracles. Thanks be to God.
