This blog was written on the occasion of of my daughter’s 23rd birthday.
Infertility is a grief. It is an deep, empty crater; a unfulfilled desire that edges on desperation. It is a longing that creates tears and hope in juxtaposition. The six years of wanting you before I was pregnant, was a tremendous time of personal growth for me. I expanded my capacity to hope. I honed my skills to believe. I earned a master’s degree in waiting on God.
Numerous amounts of pregnancy tests were taken, only to realize my symptoms were analogous with seasonal allergies. I remember one particular baby shower. It lasted four, long hours. I was so elated for the mama and the daddy. I rejoiced in all the gifts that this beautiful child was receiving. I loved the party and the food and the decorations. As hour after hour proceeded, the deep sadness of infertility crept in. I politely said, “Goodbye,” and proceeded home for no particular reason. I had had my fill. The sadness of my waiting superseded my joy for the coming child.
And so life proceeded. Along the path of the common rhythms of my life, I immersed myself in a book titled, Supernatural Childbirth. It was a fascinating read, encouraging me to believe that the Garden of Eden was not just some story from the past but a marker of what could be ours for the now. I began to believe that God could and would give me my own baby. Hey, I had tried to adopt and that didn’t work. I began to see pregnant women and say out loud, “That is me!” My spirit leapt in agreement.
I recall so clearly one afternoon at Woodland Acres Elementary School, that my principal had set aside for training. I didn’t feel well. I mentioned that I didn’t think I was gonna be eating lunch. One of my coworkers commented, “Maybe you are pregnant.” I responded without much thought, “No, it’s impossible for me to be pregnant. I have tried for six years. I even tried to adopt a child. I have taken countless pregnancy tests. I have unusual cycles and my husband has low motility. I am not pregnant.”
On my drive home, Holy Spirit asked me this pointed question. “Why did you say you weren’t pregnant?” As soon as I heard that question, I knew deep in my spirit that I was indeed pregnant. I became excited and a huge smile graced my face! I stopped at the store and purchased yet another pregnancy test! It took little time to confirm what the Holy Spirit had already told me. I asked your father to come home from work. I met him at the door both laughing and crying. I showed him the pregnancy test. You were already growing in my belly!
I loved being pregnant with you despite the normal hormonal upheavals! I don’t know why they call it morning sickness. During that first trimester, I could be nauseous anytime of the day, or night, but I didn’t care! I would have my own child at last! God heard my prayers, and He was answering, “Yes!”
I had several HUGE baby showers. Everyone was elated for me. Friends and family knew that I had unsuccessfully tried to adopt a baby boy two years earlier. They rejoiced at my joy. Everything about your pregnancy was amazing.
I began memorizing bits and pieces of Romans 8 in preparation for your delivery. Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. Nine days past your due date, I finally went in to labor. I was attending a community planning meeting for Aquatic Gardens when my belly began to contract. This was it! I knew from Lamaze classes to let your father sleep while I labored through the night. Somewhere I have the notes of how close my contractions were all night long. I was meticulous like that. The plan included the contractions needed to be one and a half minutes apart before we would leave for the hospital. The labor was mild and I was even able to sleep between contractions.
As the sun rose, we proceeded to the hospital. The happy news begin to spread through the family. My mom and dad came. My sisters came. It was fun. It was exciting. My long awaited baby girl was making her entrance into the world. In the middle of the day they broke my water to quicken the process. The labor immediately became extremely intense and almost unbearably. Between contractions I jokingly told the nurse, “I think I am scaring your other customers!” I am sure I did!
In your powerful way, you came quickly. The doctor asked me to stop pushing between contractions. I couldn’t do that . The overwhelming instinct would not allow me to override the sensation to push. You came speedily. The doctors proceeded to stitch me up. The nurses proceeded to care for you. My father, who had never seen a child born, despite having six children watched it all. He watched everything. He was so mesmerized at you and how they cared for you. Even though they bathed you in what seemed like a kitchen sink. And he loved that. And I looked on at all the activity from across the room and I loved you so dearly and so deeply. I loved you more than I knew was possible.
I cried tears of great joy when they placed you in my arms; you, my dream come true. There you were, so healthy and so beautiful in my arms.
In the coming few days I would take photos of anyone who would stop by the house to see you. I wanted to capture as much of this miracle come true as possible. That first month, I truly could’ve cared less if anything had been happening in the world. Those types of things did not really matter that much to me. I just wanted to hold you and take care of you and love you.
I had a daily calendar that I recorded everything we did, so much of that was with family. We traveled. We visited. You were easy to take places. Aunt Lizzie lived in Atlanta and we visited there.
Kathryn, I am so proud of your strength. I am so proud of your endurance. You can do all things through Christ. I am so proud of your intellect and your inner and outer beauty, your gifts and your talents and even your weaknesses. They’re all being used. They are all important. They all make you, you. And I couldn’t love you more today than that first day that I met you. I will always love you and will always seek to do what I can to help you on your path called life.
Broken but Beautiful 