Mother's Day 2007

So, things have been quite busy for us with our current move and all, and I've also been debating what to include in the next installment of our story.  I'm afraid I may take some heat for this one, but I've already shared the proposal in all it's glory so why begin hiding or sugar coating things now?  In all honesty, this post probably isn't for everyone, and may not be understood by most, but when I think about the purpose of writing our story to begin with - to be able to look back and remember our life and to share it with those who come after us, this is definitely pivotal.  If we ever do have children or grandchildren, especially if they are girls and make it to adulthood, this will be a story I definitely share with them.  Mother's Day 2007 changed everything for us.  We refer to it as the "Great Pregnancy Scare of 2007."

To give a little background information, Johnie and I love children.  We made plans for children before we were married.  We talked about when we wanted to have them, how many we hoped for, and how we preferred raising them.  I actually have a distinct pre-marriage memory of an impromptu kids discussion taking place at the dining room table in Johnie's apartment.  We were disagreeing over appropriate discipline.  We were on a time crunch for some now forgotten date.  Mid-discussion Johnie stood and said, "Oh well, we can talk about it more later.  We need to get going."  I stopped him.  "No, this is important.  I'm not going to marry someone if we can't agree on how to raise our children.  These things need to be worked out now, not later when there's nothing I can do about it."  (Note my pre-marriage view of marriage as being "stuck" with a husband until one of us dies.)

I'm not sure if it was out of fear that I would actually call off the wedding, or because he genuinely began changing his mind (he has now genuinely changed his mind - just not sure when that actually happened), but we did come to an agreement on the matter that day.  Our other discussions about children decided that we would like to have two to four, preferably healthy, children a few years after we married.  We both agreed that we would be more comfortable if I was a stay at home mom.

Prior to my first Mother's Day as a wife, I took being a mother seriously.  I read books and articles about parenting and pregnancy.  I made up possible scenarios in my head and thought through how I would handle them.  I debated mentally over what foods I should feed my future children, and what activities I should engage them in.  I analyzed other parents' boundaries in an effort to determine my own.  And even though Johnie and I had taken precautions to prevent pregnancy, I was nervous from day one about having a surprise.  Post-Mother's Day 2007, my trepidation reached a whole new level.

We all know I have a problem with patience.  But, I did manage to wait impatiently until early Sunday morning before deciding I could wait no longer.  I had been awake for a while thinking about our situation, thinking about the "what-ifs" that hung in the balance.  This wasn't uncommon during our first months of marriage.  Previously, I had always taken a test to set my mind somewhat at ease (those tests can be wrong, you know).  This time I had decided to wait it out.  Mother's Day morning I was officially late and could wait no longer.  I had already determined that there was no other possibility than that I was pregnant, and it would be best to find out on Mother's Day than any other day coming up in the near future. 

I woke Johnie and convinced him to go buy a test (I was out) so that we would know definitively that morning.  Within half an hour the test had been retrieved and taken.  I waited.  I watched the little window.  I continued to wait.  The window remained completely blank.  I usually used tests with lines, but this one was supposed to clearly say "pregnant" or "not pregnant" on the stick.  I consulted the instructions to reaffirm that I was supposed to see something in the window as well as to double check that I was doing everything correctly.  I was.  But something had gone wrong.  And I was now out of testing material.  It was going to be an interesting morning.

I was sure that the blank window was only further affirmation that I was, in fact, expecting.  I had never had any other test result than one little pink line.  I nervously made it through church services, and we came back home anxious for round two of testing.  I tried again.  The second test was not blank.  It literally (I am not making this up) displayed a little digital picture of a book.  I didn't even know that was an option!  What could that mean?  Was the test so advanced that it was able to determine that not only was I pregnant, but that I also had a lot to learn before I began parenting a helpless baby?  I consulted the instructions once more.  There were a handful of symbol options that could have appeared.  I located the book symbol on the leaflet.  It literally (I am not making this up) said please call [xxx-xxx-xxxx] to interpret these results.  Whatever this result was it was so terrible that they couldn't even write it!  Maybe the book symbol meant that they already knew that something was so horrible with me that they needed to get me on the phone to get personal information from me to track this pregnancy! 

I called the number.  They only have people answer that line Monday through Friday.  They should really rethink that, in my opinion.  Unable to wait to find out what this book symbol may or may not mean, I downed a glass of water and headed back out to the store for another box of tests.  I made sure this box had only my trusty lines (or line, singular, up to this point) and that there were no vague symbol options meant to appear.  Hopefully this test would just tell me whether or not I was pregnant, not hint at a special manual I might need for parenthood.

I can only stipulate that there may not have been any hormones at all in the "testing material" this third go around.  But even with my usual First Response test, I again got a blank screen Sunday evening.  The leaflet included with these new tests said that a blank screen was a malfunction that could have been caused by a number of reasons.  I couldn't help but wonder if this test, while not armed with a plethora of symbols, might not also be smart enough to figure out there was news it was not willing to share or I was not ready to hear. 

I didn't get much sleep Sunday night.  I calculated my potential due date if I were pregnant.  I thought about how our lives would change.  I thought about my life the past couple of weeks that I was unknowingly pregnant.  I hadn't taken multi-vitamins.  I had consumed caffiene.  I had even had some fish.  I didn't even know what would be the best things to be eating at this point, and had to figure it out since I was already in the middle of a pregnancy.  I would need to exercise, but not too much.  I wanted to have a natural birth, but what if I couldn't stand the pain, and got an epidural, but it malfunctioned and then I was paralyzed from the waist down?  And I had a baby.  How could I take care of a baby while being paralyzed from the waist down?  What if Johnie decided he couldn't love me or take care of me and the baby after being paralyzed and then I was a paraplegic single mom 800 miles away from family with a newborn? 

I couldn't even think about all the decisions that would have to be made after the baby was born.  What if I couldn't breastfeed?  What formula would be the best?  What if my flippant actions over the past couple of weeks or my ignorant actions in the upcoming 36 weeks caused something to be wrong with the baby?  How would we handle that?  How would this affect our marriage?  Was I ready to be a mother now?  Was Johnie ready to be a father?  How would he react to this news?  How could we afford a baby anyway?  If I was able to even get this kid to school age, which curriculum would I use to teach him or her?  If this child decided to marry, how would I ever find an appropriate mate for him or her?  What if the baby was a boy and when he became an adult there was a war and he got drafted and had to fight in it?  What if by the time this little baby inside me became an adult our country had completely changed and we were no longer allowed to freely practice christianity and my child faced persecution like some of our brothers and sisters in other countries do now?  Or, my biggest fear, what if this little one chose not to follow Christ at all?

The reality of parenthood hit me like a ton of bricks.  I loved children and I had always wanted to be a mom, but I had not realized the responsibility that comes with creating a soul before this day.  My chest felt tight just thinking about it.  I also worried about worrying that night, because I knew that couldn't be good for the baby, either.  I did not feel ready.  I was not ready.  I felt like I was being forced to do a job for which I had received no training and a person's life hung in the balance.  I had never thought of child-rearing as seriously as I did when I faced it that day.

Monday morning came and I called the number again.  The lady on the other line apologized for the inconvenience and told me the book symbol meant there had been something wrong with the test itself (unrelated to user error).  I couldn't account for the other two blank screens.  I took another test that morning and finally received one single pink line.  Later in the week I received further confirmation.  Nine months later I was sure I hadn't been pregnant that Mother's Day. 

The great burden I felt that day at being completely responsible for creating another human and then caring for that human through adulthood hasn't left me.  I did not feel ready then, and I have not felt ready since to undertake such a feat.  To be completely honest, I keep expecting that feeling to either subside or be overwhelmed by a desire to be a mother.  It hasn't yet.  I like to say my "baby wanter" is broken.  I've remained content over the past four years to vicariously mother through family and friends.  There are things I think that would be enjoyable about parenthood, but it just isn't worth it to me (yet).  There was once, this past December, randomly at a Christmas play, in which I sat behind the parents of most likely a 5 year old on stage.  The child was beautiful, smart, and entertaining, and the parents' pride and love was obvious.  I actually teared up at the thought of never having that experience.  I thought maybe that was the beginning of the tides turning for me, but that feeling was gone before the evening ended. 

I will also say that seeing sweet daddys with their babies also makes me think about what a wonderful father Johnie would be if he ever has the chance.  I have no doubt he'd be a great dad.  I have always been open with him that I did not want him to be deprived of that experience should he choose it, but he, too, has been content not to test the parenthood waters.  We aren't sure what the future holds for us child-wise.  I've had many discussions with God about this and have tried to stay open to His will in my life.  I tell Him regularly if He decides to surprise me with a little one, I'll try to be the best mom I can be.  But so far, from my viewpoint at least, I feel like things are best the way they are.