Almost six months pregnant and there are times when I still can’t believe there’s a living, breathing being inside of me. In my quieter moments, when I remember to utter a prayer of thankfulness to the Almighty Creator, I can’t help but be brought to tears.
This growing baby that responds to voices, disturbances to the womb, music… this baby that dances around in his amniotic sac, waves his arms, flips and turns… Every one of these movements testifies to the Giver of Life...
At the first sight of the ultrasound at 13 weeks, rather than erupting into tears, my body shook—perhaps a physical manifestation of absolute wonder. (In this instant, abortion is an unthinkable, horrifying thought.) Our obstetrician allows us first-time parents to feast our eyes on the screen for almost fifteen minutes. He then narrates, making the novel experience even more emotional: When the baby moves its arms, the obstetrician says: “Now saluting Dad…” When the baby faces downward, knees bent, arms still, he says: “Now in prayer…”
One night, shortly after taking the home pregnancy test and sharing with Lee the news, I find him next to me, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, silent. I ask, “What’s wrong?” He hesitates at first, then says, “It just needs to sink in, that’s all.”
Watching the gradual changes in my husband is part of the beauty of this pregnancy. To witness a grown man stoop down, put his lips against my tummy, and holler “Hello?! Can you hear me?” is priceless. At one o’clock on Christmas morning, the baby decides to give Daddy a gift—Lee feels him kick for the first time.
At such times I begin to think about why God has us wait nine months before seeing the baby. And now I realize that the miracle lies not only on the day of the baby’s birth, but the miracle lies also in the wait. When husband and wife are given time to worry and be excited at the same time. When husband and wife are given time to dream up their future life together. When husband and wife are humbled, realizing that the only way to anticipate surviving parenthood is to submit all cares to God.
After all, we are responsible for the wellbeing of a whole other life. What a task—a task that, while the baby hasn’t been born yet, I feel unequipped for, undeserving of. Reading 2 Samuel some time ago, feeling utterly blessed, I had felt like David, who had asked God, “Who am I, O Lord God, and what is my house, that you have brought me thus far?”
My journals bear witness to my incessant worries, and my worries still. How, prior to this year, I had worried about whether it was in God’s will for me and Lee to have children. I did not want to be naïve or overly proud, thinking that whatever I dreamed up for my future, was to be mine, simply because I wanted them badly enough. I prayed intensely for peace, for contentment. Two years ago, I had even written a short story about a couple that couldn’t conceive. “What if…” I let my worries play themselves out in my imagination. I tried to taste the pain I would feel. All of it, perhaps, to find out whether I would indeed be “okay.” Should God have an alternative plan for me—would He be enough to fill me? I so wanted the answer to be “yes.”
During the first trimester, I prayed fervently—often selfishly—“God, keep this baby alive.” (Having heard so many friends experience miscarriages made me ever fearful.) Any sign of cramping would send me whispering prayers again, out of fear.
I had thought that once I passed the first trimester, my fears would dissipate. The fact that they did not, taught me much about human nature. I had thought that once I saw the ultrasound, once I started to feel the baby move inside me, the worries would cease. They did not. Violent images, would at times, surface in my imagination—stories of stillbirth, SIDS hit closer to home… And then, when my imagination crept beyond the newborn years, to the toddler years—accidents, mistakes I might make—it came to me that there was no end to such worries.
This realization returned me once again to God—echoes of Psalm 23, Psalm 55:22 (“Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved.”), Philippians 4:11-12 (“Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need.”) rang resonantly in my heart.
Oh Lord, God—how would we do this without you?
This baby—is God’s child. In His amazing grace, He has entrusted this baby to us and we shall do our best. God knows we are sinners. We will fumble. We still stray. We will act selfishly, greedily, be bad examples, at times. But with our frail bodies, our godly aspirations, our appeal to the Almighty Creator for help—we will offer this baby to Him. That the sole purpose for the life of this child is to bring glory to the Father. No matter what happens, this is what I must remember, this is what I must keep my eyes and heart on. As David prays for his son Solomon in 1 Chronicles 29: “Grant to Solomon my son a whole heart that he may keep your commandments, your testimonies, and your statutes…”
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