Confession: I need to get off my mat

"I believe! Help my unbelief." Mark 24:9

As I've alluded to in posts I've written since becoming pregnant again, this 'new' journey has been a bit of a struggle for me. Making the decision to start trying to have another baby was not one that was made easily or lightly, but when it was made, it was made after many prayers and after receiving a strong sense of peace from God. However, I have to confess, most of this pregnancy has not been spent in peace. And while I've generally mentioned this here and there, this is the first blog post where I'm actually going to explain the vague picture I've painted more in depth and get real.

The journey of this pregnancy after loss would be more accurately described as an intense struggle. A struggle that I struggled to have. A struggle that has been pretty much a daily occurrence. A struggle so overwhelming I only ever mentioned it to anyone very broadly because the truth was it's a struggle I've struggled to understand and wrap my mind around. And ultimately, it's been a struggle that I've felt ashamed for having.

The best way I can begin to describe the struggle that I've been going through for the past 6 or 7 months is to define it in the most basic of ways and what it all stems from..

Fear.

While the pregnancy started with a sense of peace, it soon became defined by fear. Clearly, there cannot be peace where there is fear.

I think part of my struggle has been that I didn't want to be 100% honest with myself regarding what I was fearful of. Deep down inside my heart knew it, but I didn't want my mind to access it. I didn't want to admit to what I was feeling or struggling with because it felt shameful.

Ultimately, I let the fear build up so much inside of me that it greatly began to affect my faith. This came as a shock to me. You see I had assumed if ever my faith were to be shaken, it would have started when Hailey was born and continued through the first year after her death. But thankfully, my faith was rooted firmly in God and actually became stronger than ever during that time. I experienced God more deeply than ever before. I felt His love more deeply than ever before. I heard Him speak to me and give me wisdom more than ever before. I trusted Him and submitted to His ultimate authority and sovereignty more than ever before.

I knew that making the decision of trying to conceive again after loss and actually becoming pregnant would be a whole new journey affected by the grief over my loss... But never did I anticipate the journey to turn into what it has. In fact, this second year after losing Hailey, which has been characterized by this new pregnancy, has been harder than the first year after losing her in many ways. But never did I expect this time to be one where my faith would become shaken.

My inward struggle arose in part from trying to understand where my faith was at. You see there was never a moment I didn't still see Jesus as my Lord and Savior. Never was there a moment I didn't believe God was who He said He was. Never was there a moment I didn't believe that the Bible was God's living word and true. The foundations of my faith remained. I knew God is sovereign. I knew God is ultimately in control. I knew God had a purpose for allowing certain things to be and happen, and I knew He promised to work those for His good. I knew and believed a lot about God that I always had...

Yet, those unspoken fears I'd been harboring made my faith shallow where it had once been deep. I began to question and doubt more. I began to not like what I knew to be true about God and life. I began to not understand. I became not skeptical, but more pessimistic in my faith... which still isn't a good thing.

I would walk into church on Sunday and instead of leaving feeling like my faith was renewed or had been set on fire or feeling God's presence or hungering for God or anything of the sort like I'd been used to, I would leave feeling ... almost... sad... bitter...upset... The same would happen after being at a Bible study... It was frustrating to me. I didn't want to feel that way or be that way, but there I was.

While this might not make sense to you, despite feeling pessimistic, bitter, questioning God, etc., I turned to God in prayer just as much if not more than I had last year. In my frustrations, I did all I could in prayer to keep myself focused on God. Most of the time, since the struggle was so overwhelming and complicated and one I wasn't even allowing myself to see fully, I simply cried out to God in prayer, "Lord, Help me. I don't know what's going on with me. I don't want this to be going on with me. Help me... Help me."  I knew God knew my mind and my heart, even if I didn't want to admit it to myself or Him, I knew He knew, and I was thankful for it because I believed God knew what I needed even if I didn't.

But still, my struggle continued, defined by fear, affecting my faith, affecting my daily life, and soon paralyzing me. Nonetheless, I looked to God in every way I knew how for answers, wisdom, peace, and to "fix" the me I had become.

Not until very recently did I try to be completely honest with myself and God and address my fear and what was happening to me. Thankfully, mostly through several Bible studies and books I've been reading, have I been able to do so. I've been able to really see that most of what has been at work in me is fear. To some extent I knew it was fear, but I didn't really see how it was controlling me. In one of the books I've been reading that I've been hoping to hear God speak to me from, I read this:

"Anxiety and prayer are opposing forces that cannot coexist. They cause a battle in our minds, and one will always win out over the other..." (Hidden Joy in a Dark Corner, Wendy Blight, p. 70).

The battle sounded familiar. I felt my anxiety or fear and tried to go to God in prayer... But I was so frustrated... It wasn't really working out for me... And then I read this:

"...in prayer we no longer magnify our problem, we magnify God. However, it is our choice; we must choose to give everything over to God. My choice thus far had been fear" (Blight, p. 70).

I knew through my frustrations with God I was telling him I trusted him with everything, but one thing. And here's the first part of the confession which you may already see coming: the one thing I wasn't trusting him with was this new child of mine. I knew I needed to surrender everything to him. I knew it was ridiculous that I felt like I could withhold the child he was creating inside of me from him! But there I was. I was gripped with fear trying to keep God from my growing baby (I'll come back to this later).

I continued to read as the author explained how she manipulated her life and did everything in her control to ensure the thing she feared wouldn't happen again. She said:

"I had to be in total control at all times. This caused me to be in a constant state of anxiety... I did pray and ask God to take my fear away. I honestly believed I was doing what God required of me to receive His peace. Yet, day after day, I remained afraid. I continued to manipulate my life and others' lives to ensure... my peace of mind. I could not understand what I was doing wrong" (Blight, p. 71).

Later in the same chapter she titles "On the Mat," Wendy explains a meeting with her pastor where they discuss John 5:6-9 where Jesus tells an invalid to "Get up! Pick up your mat and walk." After reading it, her pastor asked her if she wanted to get well and told her that he didn't think she did. She writes of her experience:

"... I was like that invalid. My fear had paralyzed me, and I lived in a prison of fear and self-pity that I had created... I had remained in my place of pain, sorrow...and fear. I had settled there. Worse, a man who barely new me accused me of being comfortable there... It was a hard truth to hear, but it was time for me to choose. Would I listen and obey? Would I get up from my mat of despair, take God's hand, and walk with him?" (p. 76).

And then she addresses her reader:

"I believed I had every right to stay on that mat because I was the victim of an unspeakable crime. My friend, you may feel the same way. You may justify staying on your mat because you have been wronged or are the victim of unfortunate circumstances...maybe the death of a loved one... The list of excuses is endless. But the choice is yours. Like the invalid in God's story, you can choose to remain paralyzed [or you can get up and walk]" (p.77).

As I read this chapter, the author's comments on fear, and the use of scripture regarding fear and anxiety, it was all very familiar to me, nothing really new; however, God did speak to me through it. I related to God's story and hers, which made me realize and/or admit for the first time, I was living in fear and it was the source of me not living like I wanted to live. I had let it paralyze me. I was like the invalid on the mat. I did everything I could to control and manipulate my circumstances... out of fear.

So here comes my honesty and confession... These things that I'm ashamed of but working on God with...

I fear losing this baby. In fact, I don't only fear losing this baby; more specifically, I fear this baby, my son, has / will have Trisomy 18 or Trisomy 21.

This might not sound all that shocking to you, but it is to me because I never wanted to be a person afraid of having a baby with Trisomy 18 or 21 - I mean I even published Hailey's story on Be Not Afraid... And here I am not even knowing if I'm having a baby with a chromosomal disorder, but I'm living like I am, and I'm afraid of it!

Let me go further. I am afraid the birth of my second baby will be characterized in the same way as the birth of my first, which was my worst nightmare come true. I am afraid my second baby will have health problems that land him in the NICU, like with my first. I am afraid I will have to bury my second baby like I did with the first, if he has Trisomy 18 like her. I am afraid my second baby will have health problems and other issues for the rest of his life, if he has Trisomy 21. If my second baby has a chromosomal disorder like my first, I fear it. I fear another child of mine being unhealthy and suffering. I fear the stress, the pain, the sorrow, the worry, and so on that accompanies that.

And I'm ashamed of these fears. I don't want to have them. But I do.

You see, I "made it through" Hailey having Trisomy 18. I saw God in it. I saw amazing things through her life because of her Trisomy 18. God carried me through it. The journey has by no means easy (hence where all these fears stem from, a pain that's very real, and so on), but God was in it and helped me through it.

However, if I were to imagine going through it again, I can't. I tip over the edge at the thought, and the fear starts to paralyze for me. For some reason, I can go through it once, but twice, I just can't. Please God, not again... And that's where the worries and thoughts shaking my faith come into play.

But from the very beginning of trying to become pregnant again, I knew the possibility of having another child with a genetic disorder like Trisomy 18 or 21 was very real... But I had a peace about it... I had a hope about it... And somewhere the peace and hope became replaced by fear.

I think I should probably explain something so you can perhaps understand more where my fear comes from and why it can grip me so. You see Hailey's Trisomy 18 was not expected to occur. Her form of the chromosomal disorder was not hereditary; it's "spontaneous" or "random."  There was a zero risk factor associated with her pregnancy. Statistically speaking the chances of us having a baby with Trisomy 18 was like nothing. While there was an initial red flag raised during an early screening, that screening was said to have been false, and everything else throughout the pregnancy said she was a healthy baby. But in the end, it was all wrong. She had Trisomy 18 and died.

While her disorder was not a result of heredity or something we did or did not do, somehow just because she had Trisomy 18 makes it more likely we will have another child with a chromosomal disorder.  In speaking with two genetic counselors since losing Hailey, they told us that the chances of us having another child with Trisomy 18 or Trisomy 21 climbed to 1 in 99, but the genetic counselors were highly optimistic and encouraging, believing we would have a healthy child.

This statistic has haunted me and is what gave birth to my fears. The statistic is "worse" than it was with our first baby. Yet the statistic still favors us having a healthy baby. But again, after Hailey, statistics don't mean much to me.

And so far this pregnancy, all of the doctors, midwives, ultrasound technicians, and so on that we have seen, have been optimistic. They've been more cautious because of our prior history with Trisomy 18 (which has actually only added to my fears), but they've remained reassured by normal and healthy results, findings, check ups, and so on. Over and over again I hear, "Everything looks good."

However, my fear remains.

Yesterday was my most recent prenatal check up at almost 33 weeks, and things continue to progress normally and smoothly. And once again, I heard, "Everything looks good." While I do delight in this and praise God for this, can you understand why it's not reassuring me? Can you understand why it doesn't ease my fears?

It's because we heard the same things with Hailey so now a part of me assumes the same thing with our son. The whole pregnancy we'll be told "Everything looks good," and then once our baby enters the world we'll be greeted with the news that he has a chromosomal disorder...

(I forgot to mention that one of the reasons it's been so much easier for me to imagine having a son who is unhealthy and imagine the pain and stress that might come along with that than imagine and hope for a son who is healthy and for a birth experience that is everything good that I could dream it to be... is because I've felt for some reason or another that I don't deserve it. For some reason the fearing, pessimistic part of me in this battle has made me feel that the joys of life are no longer coming my way... like I'm destined to a life of hardship and suffering (which maybe I am because God doesn't promise an easy life, but I've let myself take that to an extreme where I've stopped believing something good and joyful that I've dreamed of could actually happen). But I realized, while yes God promised a life of suffering and God promised and yes I am unworthy sinner... that doesn't mean God can't bring good my way or that my dreams can't be God's dreams and so on.)

This is my fear and struggle in as small of a nutshell as I can put it.

I mentioned before relating to Wendy Blight manipulating her circumstances. She thought she was protecting herself from what she feared, but in fact, those actions of hers were her being paralyzed by fear. I am doing that. I am acting out of fear this pregnancy. How?

I haven't thought of a theme for our son's nursery. Because I'm afraid. I haven't bought anything for our son's nursery. Because I'm afraid. I haven't registered for anything for our son. Because I'm afraid. I haven't wanted a baby shower (if anyone were to even offer). Because I'm afraid. I've only managed to buy a couple of blankets for him. Because I'm afraid. I can't go to the store and shop for the things we need for him. Because I'm afraid. I don't research anything or read anything about having a baby past pregnancy. Because I'm afraid. I haven't allowed myself to be completely excited and joyful and hopeful about meeting our son. Because I'm afraid. I haven't allowed myself to dream of a future with him. Because I'm afraid. I haven't written about this pregnancy / my son much on my blog. Because I'm afraid. I could go on and on about things I'm doing, only recently really realizing they are being done out of fear.

Today, I feel like I'm finally making progress with God... finally confessing my fears and doubts and so on (which there are more of than I have time to explain on here because this struggle has really turned me into a gigantic mess)... finally realizing I need to get up off my mat and walk. I'm continuing to pray for God's peace to fill my heart and to help me rid myself of fear. I'm continuing to pray for God to help my unbelief. But what I'm realizing is that if I'm going to get up off my mat and stop letting fear make me an invalid, I need to stop the actions of mine that are motivated by fear. I'm ready to be motivated by hope.

I need to make the conscious effort to start doing those things above that I mentioned I'm afraid to do. I need start doing the things people do who trust God and who hope.

Another part of my problem is that I have understood that God's will might be for our son to have a chromosomal disorder. This concept is one that has been at the forefront of my battle that made me want to withhold my son from God and tell God I didn't want that. But it's true, God might have that plan for our son. However, he might also have it in his plans for our son to be healthy. I am not to know right now.

So I need to start looking at those two possibilities without fear blinding me.

If God's plan is for our son to have a chromosomal disorder, then I will choose to walk confidently through that with God. No it's not what I would have planned or liked. Yes it is something that will be difficult and probably involve pain. But I will trust God and walk through it all with him... If and when I get there. Not before.

If God's plan is for our son to be healthy, then I will rejoice in that and praise God for that.

And because I can't know what the plan is just yet, I need to live in hope like I said. I need to accept and believe all the facts that I do have that overwhelmingly point to our son being healthy. I need to focus on those truths instead of fearing them to be lies. I want to be able to live hopeful that my son will live a healthy life. So I need to confront those fears and stop acting like he's not coming home. I need to start preparing his nursery, our home, and my heart for him. I need to hope in that.

(Even as I write this, I feel the battle inside. I immediately start to think about why I haven't been doing those things and how I don't want to do those things and have it turn out we never get to use them like with what happened with Hailey and how I'll have to deal with feeling mad at myself for being hopeful if things turn out that way.... It's terrible mess of run on sentences like that).

But as you can tell, I'm still in the struggle, but at least my eyes are being opened.

One of the reasons I've been ashamed of this all is because I want my life to shine for Christ. I want my response to every circumstance to glorify Christ. And honestly, being so fearful this pregnancy is not the example of a Christ follower that I want to be, sure it's human, but the fear doesn't let God shine through. So why am I even sharing this online then? The same reason I write anything... one, it helps me release the burden, but more importantly, it's my prayer that God will somehow use my missteps, lessons, experiences to help someone else. And if nothing else, maybe it will help you know how you can better pray for me?

So I'll end by saying this. I am absolutely in love with my son, even fear cannot attack that. I am so thankful that he seems to be growing and healthy. I delight and rejoice in my growing belly and feeling his movements. I continue to pray for my son to be born healthy and for his birth experience to be the one I dream of that's covered in nothing but joy and love. I am praying and making practical steps to rid myself of fear and doubt and instead choose to be filled with hope and God's wisdom.

For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline. 2 Timothy 1:7