fair warning: this is the longest blog i've ever blogged. read at your own expense (time, that is)
I’ve really hesitated putting this in writing because I didn’t want it to come across as a note of pity or an act of wanting attention. And I think I’ve moved enough hours between myself and these moments that it’s a little safer to speak of them. For a while I was embarrassed and ashamed that so many things happened to me while I was pregnant. It frustrated me when people would say “oh bless your heart. You poor thing.” Poor was so far from my mind. I was so excited to feel Loralai move so early – it was about 13 or 14 weeks when I started feeling lots of fluttering. I knew she would always let me know how she was doing.
I was so frustrated when I was slowed to a near halt with my first pregnancy “symptom”. Sore feet. I mean sore. Like walking on rocks sore. Oh wait, water retention happened before then. At about 16 weeks I had retained so much water that I wasn’t able to wear my wedding rings or my shoes. I think my midwives thought I was a total pig – I wasn’t. I was just a camel. Truly. And I was thirsty like I was stuck out in a desert. Ask my husband – I drank nearly a gallon of water a day (that is not an exaggeration).
Next up – the sensation of bruised feet stunk but to add to that, I had the sensation of pins and needles pricking my calves and feet. I had to have my feet propped up on a stool at work, at all times, to eliminate pain. I cooked while sitting on a bar stool because to stand meant I would shift right to left foot to ease pain – I would cry. Oh dear, the nausea. The nausea started at week six – letting us know we were pregnant – and didn’t cease until about 18 weeks. I recall gagging in mid conversation with a friend at work. Very impressive.
Taste aversions – wow. Oh food – not my friend and yet I couldn’t live without it. I had to eat or I would be nauseous. Gag reflex – it was so strong that upon sneezing if there happened to be too much mucous in the mouth, I would vomit. I prayed so many days on my drive to and from work – “please God, just let the car stop before I puke.” He always allowed me to have a stopped car – and to be without speeding tickets.
Mucous. Holy mother of Moses – I made enough mucous that I put all slugs to shame.
Sciatica. Dang that sciatic nerve. That thing made me cry on more than one occasion. I especially remember trying to walk from the parking deck to the office building – I recall stopping 10 times on the short trip one morning. Then sitting at my desk crying (it’s what I did best some days) while my coworkers got an ice pack for my bum/back area. The sciatic nerve inflammation bouts lingered all through my pregnancy.
Carpal tunnel syndrome – or so we thought. As it turns out, it was tendonitis in my wrists. And, it still exists today. Only now I have a brace I wear.
Round ligament – did you ever know a round ligament could be so troublesome? So much so that I laid in bed holding my husband’s hand so that my body wouldn’t move an inch – while I cried. Oh the tears. Oh the pain. I couldn’t move without it feeling as though a knife was being jabbed in my lower abdomen/upper groin area.
Braxton Hicks – we thought about naming Loralai, Braxton – or hicks. Whichever. Because the Braxton hicks began at 25 weeks and didn’t stop until 42 when she arrived. My midwives assured me that they were “normal.” My husband now says this, “it may not be ‘ideal’ but it’s ‘normal.’” I understand that now. But when you’re having Braxton Hicks 10 times an hour (again, no exaggeration) and people think you’re kooky when you suddenly have a shortness of breath mid conversation or when you hold your tummy and look amazed due to the sudden tightening of the uterus – it gets old. I thought for sure that I would have rock hard abs post delivery…I mean all those hicks should have done some Braxton good.
Varicosities – if you don’t know what this is, let me explain. It’s when small veins cluster together and form a knot of sorts. On me it looked like a golf ball was lodged under the skin on the side of my lady area near my groin. This too made me cry. And this also made for lots of sitting. Standing just meant more pressure was being pushed down on the varicosities …oh my sweet Lord it hurt. So to relieve the pressure I swam. I joined a swim aerobics class – thank you swim aerobics friends. You were a much needed Monday night comic relief…while doing the frog and running in water I realized that being pregnant was a lot of fun with people who had long gone before you and had their own hilarious stories.
Acid reflux – one night while sitting in bed I felt like I had swallowed some pop rocks (remember those?) only they didn’t pop. They just sizzled. And they were sitting dead still in my throat. I yelled to todd, “TOODDDDD something is WRONG!” and the fear rose up in me. Stupid fear. But I had todd googling acid reflux, heart burn – anything he could find that sounded similar to what I was experiencing. But while I was waiting for an answer from him in the other room, I was working myself in to pure hysteria…I had myself dead already. I had convinced myself that the burn in my throat was some sort of flesh eating strep bacteria and I was surely dead as a roach crawling across my kitchen counter. But nope – just acid reflux. So, Tums (which I gravely HATE and gag at the smell of even when not pregnant) and I became very close friends. I had a bottle at my bedside and couldn’t leave home without them. Thank you tums – my bones are now strong and my throat forever coated in your luscious tummy tum tum tums.
….side note: one Monday evening while at swim aerobics, I had to leave class. Why? Because I nearly puked in the pool while doing my water running – who knew that a uterus could jump so high that it could push acid straight into your mouth causing instant heaving. The YMCA doesn’t like people to puke in their pools. So I excused myself. They understood.
Hot flashes – you think you ladies in menopause have it bad. I wanted to put a fan under my desk to turn on full blast pointing straight at my crotch (I was inspired to do that by a friend of mind who DID – you know who you are). Instead, I caused todd to sleep in sweatshirts at night while we kept the house at a balmy 65 degrees in the dead of winter. Hey, a guy’s gotta sacrifice during pregnancy too.
Stretch Marks – this is where I sigh. They first appeared on my breasts – no biggie. I figured they would show up there as the ta-tas grew quickly. But I was pleased by them b/c I knew it meant that I would be able to feed my baby. Then they showed up on my bum. Again, no worries. I already had a bubble butt – but during pregnancy it became larger. Shoosh. No comments from the peanut gallery – I’ll throw the peanuts right back atcha. Where I sigh is Christmas. Standing in my mom’s bathroom I saw them – they were on my abdomen. I knew I was doomed. I laid in my mom’s garden tub,while todd held my hand, and I cried. It was as if I was mourning my body. – more on that in a minute.
PUPPS – even if I typed out what those letters stand for, they wouldn’t mean a whole lot. Basically it’s a rash that nearly did me in. It occurred in the third trimester and this is when I hit the wall. The rest of the symptoms I could deal with. But this. This is when I started yelling – at God. I was SO broken about this. I felt so deprived of God’s love through this. I begged him for mercy. I was given steroidal crème, strong antihistamine pills, told to take oatmeal baths, kept the house colder than cold, stepped on ice packs, put ice packs on my body – ANYTHING to relieve the itching. And when I say itching…have you ever had poison ivy? It’s worse than that. And it covered my entire body – and made its way to crevices of the lady body that it ought not be. I was beside myself with anguish. I was excused from work and put on bed rest. Nothing relieved the itch or the huge welps that arrived with the itch. I definitely cried out ‘why me God?’ I felt so left out. Every other woman that I’d ever known seemed to have such an easy – carefree – pregnancy. So why couldn’t I?
I thought I’d worked so hard to get to where I was physically. I ran – I ate healthy – I didn’t smoke – I rarely had a sip of wine pre-pregnancy – I prayed – I worshipped God – I was desperately trying to surrender everything to him – and THIS is how he repaid me? Seriously.
Right. Seriously. His plan was different than mine. While he didn’t inflict me with this anguish – he stood by me while it happened. There were days that I felt like God was miles away from me. I would pray – I would meditate on his voice – I would call out to him – I would audibly praise him – I would sing out to him – nothing. I believe that during my pregnancy, God was quiet. At times, silent.
I’ve never spoken about this to anyone other than Todd.
Before we were pregnant, I was in a growth spurt. I could hear God’s voice – I was closer to him and his heart than I had ever been. I craved him.
But here I was in the midst of something physically and emotionally challenging and he was no where to be found. Yet he was everywhere. I dug down deep while pregnant – I sought his word and begged him to show me himself. His word was in me and so I knew that even in the quietness that I was feeling, he was near. I knew that he would never let go of me – that the Holy Spirit was still protecting me and Loralai and that I was still loved immensely by the king of kings. But I’m telling you as a child of God who loves her time with Jesus and finds the greatest excitement in hearing the voice of God – I was void and it was hard.
And I was holding on – to junk. Old stuff. Stuff that needed to be shot down, thrown out and given back to the enemy. It wasn’t mine to begin with, didn’t come from God and I was commanded to let go of it.
My body is a living sacrifice to God. My body is a temple of the Holy Spirit – I am called to cherish it as such. It is the dwelling place of God. I am to feed it, nurture it and love it so that it can be a living example of the body of Christ. My body wasn’t created so that I could be a bikini model, have an ‘ideal’ size or weight according to the ways of the world.
I’m not sure I have the words to let you know the depths of searing it took to get that engrained in my soul. I needed refining – but with refining comes pain. In order for iron to be shaped and made beautiful, iron must hit iron and it must be hot to mold it. So were my pregnancy symptoms. God was breaking me of so much and he allowed something so big, something so precious and important to me to get my attention – my full attention.
I think that I’d forgotten that my body was God’s first – not mine or todd’s. It was his. When I looked in the mirror, I had better been darn sure that I was looking back through the eyes of God and not through the world’s. For a while I wasn’t. But now – now I’m getting there. I can definitely say with a humble heart that it’s been hard. I consider myself to be healthy and in shape – I love to run and want to always be physically strong so that I can live a long life.
The most beautiful moments of my life were the wee hours of February 19. When I went into labor something amazing happened. I could hear God again. Finally. Oh how I had waited. It was like hearing your mom’s voice on a day when you desperately needed to be held by her. And when todd prayed over me in the hospital, I could feel Jesus’ presence. And when the doctors were pulling Loralai out of my womb, my hands lifted in praise and I just started saying “thank you jesus. Yes jesus! Praise you jesus! Thank you jesus!” (the nurses probably thought I was a total nut) But there it was – the gift. Amidst all the crazy symptoms was something more precious than words.
Answered prayer.
We prayed for each symptom to go away – and it did. (except for the tendonitis – but that’s minor and I can deal with that). We prayed for a hardy baby – a baby who sleeps well - who was formed physically perfect – a baby who loves jesus – a baby who would eat well and have a peaceful spirit. In the quiet of my pregnancy, God was never far and he listened. And he answered. But he answered according to his time – according to his purpose. I – Ashley – was called to just simply wait on him to answer.
And I was antsy and demanding and selfish and rude and frustrated and broken and grieving my dad’s death and scared and uncomfortable – and do you know that through all of the junk I dished out, that Jesus held me? He held me every time and loved me despite myself.
I’ve yet to be able to speak to another woman about my symptoms. I think it’s because I’ve really been embarrassed that SO much occurred during my pregnancy – but what’s there to be embarrassed about? At one point or another in our lives, God will refine us. He will make us into the men and women that he wants us to be – but what will he use – what will it take to get our attention – to make us revere and submit to him?
I’m humbled that my pregnancy showed me the power of God. And I’m thankful.
I’m forever changed.
I’m still not crazy about my stretchmarks. Only now I’m amazed. I’m amazed that God allowed Loralai to grow so perfectly in my womb. Perfectly. The doctors were in awe of her health and her peaceful disposition. And still she is both – health and peace. She wears the mark of her mama – her dimples. And I wear the mark of her – my stretch marks. Only I call them my love marks.
God thank you for my body. Thank you for showing me how hardy you made me. Thank you for allowing my body to be tested and pushed and for showing me that even when your presence seems far that you are ever present. Thank you for allowing me to feel my baby so clearly every kick of the way. I praise you for showing me that my body was made for more than a bikini or a cute pair of pants…that it was made by you and for you, to glorify you. Thank you for reminding me that I am more than a number on a scale but a child loved more by you than any mom could ever love her baby. Thank you for teaching me your ways and your word even when I felt I had failed to learn. Thank you for refining me and helping me to know you even if it is just a glimmer more. My body rejoiced and cried for ten months for the glory of you – thank you. I am grateful that my experience might somehow be able to encourage another woman. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
the other night we had our friend, doug, over for dinner. it used to be a sunday night tradition to do dinner w/ him (that was pre-baby). but i think we're starting to bring back a few things from the old days - and if not every sunday, at least more often than the past few months. and when doug comes over, so does his dog sammy. sam. 
