The process of adding another person to our family has had its surprises and challenges all along the way, so it shouldn’t have been surprising to us that my last trimester of pregnancy was no different.
Being diagnosed with gestational diabetes at twenty-eight weeks changed a lot of my ideals for the last trimester of pregnancy. Just about the time I was no longer experiencing morning sickness that lasted all day and I could appreciate all kinds of food I hadn’t been able to stand before, I was put on a strict diet of protein and vegetables with few carbs and no processed sugar. To add insult to injury, a few days after being told I could discontinue my daily injections, I was instructed to begin pricking my finger four times a day to check my blood sugar. Full-blown martyrdom had nearly set in when I realized how much better I felt avoiding a lot of carbs and processed sugars.
My next surprise came when I went to the doctor over the next few weeks and I was losing weight instead of gaining. I asked the doctor several times if that was acceptable, concerned that losing weight was not healthy for the baby. The doctor reassured me that it’s not unusual for the mother to lose weight and the baby to gain once someone starts on a diabetic diet and that I had already gained plenty of weight in the first six months to keep me healthy during the last three. This revelation did add slightly to my feelings of martyrdom, but I knew it was worth it to have a healthy baby.
Our final surprise was the doctor’s strong recommendation that we induce at thirty-nine weeks. It was explained to us that the benefits of inducing a week early far outweighed the consequences, and with our history and concern with my high-risk pregnancy, we agreed that inducing was a good idea.
We packed our bags and headed to the hospital on Wednesday evening. As suggested, we stopped along the way to eat a “good meal” to hold me through labor and delivery. At the restaurant, the well-meaning server asked when the baby was due. I told her soon and smiled knowingly to Read. The server shook her head, looked at me with a practiced eye, and said, “No. It’s going to be a while. You’re still carrying that baby way too high.” I forced a smile her direction, thanked her for the service, and told Read I was ready to get out of there.
Arriving at the hospital, we started the induction process and waited. It took two days for my body to fully respond to the process, but by Friday night around ten, I was ready to push and meet our miracle baby. Epidurals are fantastic things…until they wear off. Mine wore off twice, and I was able to feel every aspect of the delivery process. I thought I had experienced severe pain suffering through endometriosis, and I did, but it was nothing compared to labor and delivery.
As I panted between contractions and waited for the next opportunity to get rid of this watermelon-sized creature attempting to exit through a golf ball-sized hole, I told the doctor and nurse that I was ready to be done and was going to leave for a bit and let Read take over. My doctor chuckled and told me it seemed only right that since Read and I were the only two there when the baby was conceived, he should do his part. I shook my head, glancing at Read and grunting, and told them this was an in-vitro baby; neither of us were there when he was conceived, so they should get the embryologists in here to finish things up, and we’d come back when it was done. I’d like to think the medical professionals appreciated my attempt at humor as I struggled to focus through the pain. My options were to either attempt to make light of the situation or curse Eve and the serpent and the fruit. I also asked at one point during an intense part of the delivery if it was too late for a c-section. The doctor just smiled and told me to push with the next contraction.
Of course, all of that pain and anxiety melted away when at 11:44p.m. on that Friday night, my precious baby was born and I got to hold him for the first time. He was more amazing than we could have ever imagined. Almost three weeks later, I still look at him and am in awe of God’s gift to us; this little person that has made us three. I look at his perfect little face and gaze into those midnight blue eyes, and I melt. I would do anything for that little bundle who has kept me from getting a decent night’s sleep and turned our world upside down. I want to orchestrate his whole life with the very best of circumstances and shelter him from any hurts and disappointments he may face. Ultimately, though, I realize that the best thing I can do for my precious son is to ask God for the wisdom to raise him in the right way, pray that he grows to know Christ as his personal Savior at an early age, and trust that God will work in both of our lives. We are so blessed by this addition that has made us three.
How sweet to hold a newborn baby,
And feel the pride and joy he gives,
But greater still the calm assurance:
This child can face uncertain day because he lives.
“Because He Lives” By Bill and Gloria Gaither