What a year. Certainly not the most typical of a baby's first year of life. And yet so covered in God's grace. More obviously than any other year of my life. A year ago, I welcomed my gorgeous daughter into the world. I wrote about the labour here: http://cankiwis.blogspot.com/2009/09/shes-here.html
At the end of that post I wrote:
Colin walked out of our lives when I was 6.5 months pregnant. I was pregnant with a child we both wanted. A child we were both (or so I thought) eagerly anticipating. I had no indication to the contrary. This man who was supposed to love and devote his life to his family for the next 50 years had just shattered everything. At that time, in my head, he had shattered every hope and dream I had for that sweet unborn child. The joyous anticipation of birth was gone. How could there be any joy in it anymore?
There was a dark cloud hanging over this baby. Her father would not be at the birth. I wouldn't allow it. How could I? How could I have this person there, who wouldn't be supporting me, but just wanting to see the child born, just so he can turn around and walk out the door and into his mistress' arms? Are you kidding me?? No. I wouldn't allow him to be there.
But how could I do this? He was my rock during my other births. Without his presence, I don't think I would have withstood the pain of giving birth. He was my rock. How could I be in that kind of pain or in that situation without the person who knew me best in the whole world?
And my due date loomed closer and closer. I started getting anxious and overcome with the fear of doing it "alone". I wasn't truly alone. I would have two midwives and a doula there. But it wasn't the same. I was drowning in fear. I had my closest friends praying against this fear, but it still was almost palpable. I didn't want to give birth. I didn't want to bring a baby into this new world I was living in. I just wanted to stay pregnant forever.
Three days before Rory's birth, a friend sat in my living room with me. And we prayed, as we had done every week for over a month. Usually, we prayed for me, for Colin, for my boys. Tonight, she was really focusing on praying for the baby. And as she prayed, peace washed over me. And a revelation. A revelation, when written out, sounds almost cheesy, but it filled me with such calm, with such hope, and drastically reduced my fears. God told me that there was NO dark cloud over my baby, and there never was. He told me that this baby was the light. The light in the storm. And that was exactly what he intended all along.
And suddenly, I felt ready to birth my child. I knew the labour, the physical pain, the great emotional vulnerability that comes with labouring and birthing a child would not daunt me. I was ready.
Two days later, a Friday night, I sat, watching TV. And then I was flipping through my Bible, searching for every verse I could find on fear. I started writing them down on small pieces of paper. Many from Isaiah. One that talked about the Lord being my husband. (I wanted to write each of those verses in this blog, but I cannot find them at the moment. I did save them). My plan was to take these verses and tape them up all over my house, so, as I laboured, I would see them, read them, and know that there was no fear in my labour. There was no fear in bringing this beloved child into this world. Even this devastated world we (my boys and I) were living in. I wrote them out and placed them in a pile on my kitchen counter. Then, because I hadn't been feeling well that day, and because I wanted to rest as much as I could before labour kicked in, I went to bed.
Here, the story entwines a little more with the story I posted a year ago (linked above). I lay in bed, having, what I thought, were Braxton Hicks contractions. When I finally gave in and timed them, I realized they were the real thing and called my midwife. She told me to wait half an hour and see if they increased in intensity.
I got up, got online, and e-mailed and messaged many friends all over the world, who had promised to pray for me while I laboured. I went into my kitchen and phoned a local friend who had also promised to pray while I laboured, and phone others to get them praying (phone prayer chain). This friend was also my "on call" person to come be with the boys or take them to her house, whatever they wanted, if needed. And I read my verses.
I felt calm. I was doing this by myself and had no fear. My body took over, as labour usually does. I felt the presence of God very clearly. I knew he was being my "husband" and my baby's ultimate "daddy".
My midwife and doula came. They were amazing. Labour was fast. I spent many contractions leaning into my kitchen counter while my doula pressed into my back. Back labour, of course, for me. In between contractions, I would read the verses. I called, out loud, LOUDLY, to my Saviour to be with me. I read my verses. I had no fear. "Perfect love" had cast out all my fears.
Rory was born and it was beautiful. And, like the hours following my sons' births, the hours following Rory's were joyous, blessed. My family, my beautiful, disjointed family that now consisted of me and my children only, gazed at this amazing little girl who shone God's light so brightly into our home that night.
Her earthly father, who had wanted to know when I was in labour and when I'd given birth, had shut his phone off that night. 3 days before my due date and he had shut his phone off. He was oblivious until he woke up in the morning to 3 messages from me.
But we had God with us. God was my husband and my children's Abba, as always. We were complete and whole and fearless that night.
Rory, I couldn't be more blessed to be your mama. Happy 1st Birthday, sweet, sweet Poppet! You've changed our lives and melted our hearts.
At the end of that post I wrote:
I can't go into detail, but God's grace and strength and presence were SO evident in my house the night my daughter was born. She is a gift from him in such a unique way. She is a light in the midst of a storm my family is battling. For a long time before she was born, I thought that battle would cloud her birth, but God showed me it was just the opposite. She is his light. He shines through her and helps me see THROUGH the storm. Thank you God, for this perfect little treasure. She is amazing. She is fearfully and wonderfully made and I cannot believe how incredibly blessed I am. Thank you, God.Today, I will share more details.
Colin walked out of our lives when I was 6.5 months pregnant. I was pregnant with a child we both wanted. A child we were both (or so I thought) eagerly anticipating. I had no indication to the contrary. This man who was supposed to love and devote his life to his family for the next 50 years had just shattered everything. At that time, in my head, he had shattered every hope and dream I had for that sweet unborn child. The joyous anticipation of birth was gone. How could there be any joy in it anymore?
There was a dark cloud hanging over this baby. Her father would not be at the birth. I wouldn't allow it. How could I? How could I have this person there, who wouldn't be supporting me, but just wanting to see the child born, just so he can turn around and walk out the door and into his mistress' arms? Are you kidding me?? No. I wouldn't allow him to be there.
But how could I do this? He was my rock during my other births. Without his presence, I don't think I would have withstood the pain of giving birth. He was my rock. How could I be in that kind of pain or in that situation without the person who knew me best in the whole world?
And my due date loomed closer and closer. I started getting anxious and overcome with the fear of doing it "alone". I wasn't truly alone. I would have two midwives and a doula there. But it wasn't the same. I was drowning in fear. I had my closest friends praying against this fear, but it still was almost palpable. I didn't want to give birth. I didn't want to bring a baby into this new world I was living in. I just wanted to stay pregnant forever.
Three days before Rory's birth, a friend sat in my living room with me. And we prayed, as we had done every week for over a month. Usually, we prayed for me, for Colin, for my boys. Tonight, she was really focusing on praying for the baby. And as she prayed, peace washed over me. And a revelation. A revelation, when written out, sounds almost cheesy, but it filled me with such calm, with such hope, and drastically reduced my fears. God told me that there was NO dark cloud over my baby, and there never was. He told me that this baby was the light. The light in the storm. And that was exactly what he intended all along.
And suddenly, I felt ready to birth my child. I knew the labour, the physical pain, the great emotional vulnerability that comes with labouring and birthing a child would not daunt me. I was ready.
Two days later, a Friday night, I sat, watching TV. And then I was flipping through my Bible, searching for every verse I could find on fear. I started writing them down on small pieces of paper. Many from Isaiah. One that talked about the Lord being my husband. (I wanted to write each of those verses in this blog, but I cannot find them at the moment. I did save them). My plan was to take these verses and tape them up all over my house, so, as I laboured, I would see them, read them, and know that there was no fear in my labour. There was no fear in bringing this beloved child into this world. Even this devastated world we (my boys and I) were living in. I wrote them out and placed them in a pile on my kitchen counter. Then, because I hadn't been feeling well that day, and because I wanted to rest as much as I could before labour kicked in, I went to bed.
Here, the story entwines a little more with the story I posted a year ago (linked above). I lay in bed, having, what I thought, were Braxton Hicks contractions. When I finally gave in and timed them, I realized they were the real thing and called my midwife. She told me to wait half an hour and see if they increased in intensity.
I got up, got online, and e-mailed and messaged many friends all over the world, who had promised to pray for me while I laboured. I went into my kitchen and phoned a local friend who had also promised to pray while I laboured, and phone others to get them praying (phone prayer chain). This friend was also my "on call" person to come be with the boys or take them to her house, whatever they wanted, if needed. And I read my verses.
I felt calm. I was doing this by myself and had no fear. My body took over, as labour usually does. I felt the presence of God very clearly. I knew he was being my "husband" and my baby's ultimate "daddy".
My midwife and doula came. They were amazing. Labour was fast. I spent many contractions leaning into my kitchen counter while my doula pressed into my back. Back labour, of course, for me. In between contractions, I would read the verses. I called, out loud, LOUDLY, to my Saviour to be with me. I read my verses. I had no fear. "Perfect love" had cast out all my fears.
Rory was born and it was beautiful. And, like the hours following my sons' births, the hours following Rory's were joyous, blessed. My family, my beautiful, disjointed family that now consisted of me and my children only, gazed at this amazing little girl who shone God's light so brightly into our home that night.
Her earthly father, who had wanted to know when I was in labour and when I'd given birth, had shut his phone off that night. 3 days before my due date and he had shut his phone off. He was oblivious until he woke up in the morning to 3 messages from me.
But we had God with us. God was my husband and my children's Abba, as always. We were complete and whole and fearless that night.
Rory, I couldn't be more blessed to be your mama. Happy 1st Birthday, sweet, sweet Poppet! You've changed our lives and melted our hearts.
3 comments:
Oh precious Rory -- what a wonderful mama you have. One who trusts in the Lord to be her Husband, one who trusts in her God to be your Father. You are blessed, Rory.
Rory, God is your Father. He loves you so much and He has a perfect plan for you, your brothers, and your mama.
Sending prayers and love from California!
She is precious, Krista. Thank you for sharing the lovely photos and videos!
Deborah
He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand Psalm 40:2
What a beautiful gift you have been given. The Lord loves you. He will be your guide in the darkness and provide the brightest light...even when you are not convinced you could. I pray for you..for beautiful Rory..for Ethan, your wise little man and for Silas..a joyful spirit..full of spirit!!
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