Remembering my pregnancy

It was a year ago today that I had my first prenatal visit, at which my OB/GYN confirmed my pregnancy. I had such a mixture of emotions. I was amazed that it had happened so quickly, frustrated that I hadn't figured out I was pregnant sooner than I did, scared that my recent trend of high blood sugars had damaged my growing baby, and hopeful for the possibility of having my very own bundle of joy in less than eight months. I was very hesitant to assume everything would be fine, since I'd known several friends and family members who had miscarried, and I was keenly aware that my pregnancy was high-risk.

It turned out to be a very long and difficult eight months for me, with scares from cramping, spotting, high blood pressure, and excessively high and low sugars. These were on top of what I was convinced was much-worse-than-average hormonal fluctuations, nausea, back pain, and exhaustion. I told Steve dozens of times that I was not going to do this again and that the rest of our children were going to be adopted. Those eight months felt like eight years to me, and it was hard not to get frustrated when verteran moms would tell me that it would be over before I knew it. Now I'm telling other new moms the same thing.

Every day I experience a living reminder of God's grace toward me manifested in my sweet, happy baby girl, whom He created. He knew her long before I did, and protected her every moment she was inside of me. Even though I continually failed to trust Him, He, in His sovereign mercy, chose to give me what I had always wanted. I hope I never cease to rejoice, and that regardless of what God has in store for Rebecca, I will give thanks for her as long as I live.