I hadn't thought about you in a few days. Isn't it just like life to remind me? Isn't it interesting that the words I find so extremely impossible to say out loud, started coming out of my mouth on the tiniest scale to a friendship unexpected?
When I got my tubes tied, I was told it would be impossible for me to get pregnant. I was told that the connecting tissue between my ovaries and the ability to fertilize them was severed.
To be honest, I don't really know what I was thinking. I was so afraid, I was so messed up. I was so exhausted. When I think back on that pregnancy... Perhaps it was one of my own personal war experiences. It was a pregnancy drug laced with death. From the very beginning that's all it was. Death, death, and more death, all tongue tied up in my body. I lived like a ticking time bomb. I was never allowed to be alone. I was not allowed to lift anything heavier than a cup. I wasn't allowed to pick up my child. I wasn't allowed to sit up for longer than five minutes. I had to be baby sat when I showered, or used the restroom, or did anything at all.
"It will take two minutes for you to bleed to death."
"Make out your will, this pregnancy will probably kill you."
"Make arrangements for your daughter if you don't come out of this alive."
"Baby A will probably die, if 'it' makes it to delivery."
Abortion was never an option. To explain to you the deep disdain I have for abortion...I would never kill my unborn child. I don't care if he or she was ectopic, or if "they" say he or she would kill me... I don't really care. My God is bigger than "you" or any army that you could drag in front of me and if He thinks it worthy of my death to bring forth new life then so be it.
I held to that opinion when I carried them. I honestly don't know what on earth I was thinking. Why did I think I could sever the ties that bind? Why did I think it's what I wanted? I wish I had the answers. I remember when they wheeled me into the operating room, I was crying uncontrollably. I was playing over the possibility of my child never seeing me again. I was holding onto the baggage of those seven months of torment. In that foolish frame of mind, I did the only thing that I have ever deeply and sincerely regretted.
When I came out of the haze that was that period of my life, sorrow overwhelmed me in regards to my actions. A deep spirit of repentance washed over. I was so broken. I was sincerely wrong. I prayed and begged God to forgive me. I begged Him to heal my body and to undo the stupid thing I had done. I know that He is bigger than even the greatest of my sinful actions. I know that He could allow me to carry another beautiful life, if that was His will. I know He is bigger than what I had done. But I recognize that my action was about control. My action was a representation of a belief that my perspective, my desire, my "decision" was better than what His plan was. In essence, I thought I knew better. If that isn't the greatest display of wickedness then I don't know what is.
I can't tell you how many times I have knelt before His throne, in complete repentance, desperate for Him to fix me. I also knew, and completely resigned myself to, the possibility that He would never undo my actions. I deserved to suffer. I still do.
When you came along it was the last thing I expected. I suppose I had closed the door on that possibility. But all of a sudden, there you were. Growing, living, thriving, in me. You were my secret. You were our secret. Your daddy and I decided to wait before we spoke up. I think he was afraid you were ectopic. I think I just wanted to thrive in the private and beautiful knowledge of your existence. I didn't want to deal with the stupid comments that people would inevitably make, "Do you think it's another set of triplets!?" or "Wow. What if you have triplets again?" So it was just the three of us. My body was acting crazy. I was nauseous. I was hungry all the time. I was sore. I was tired. But it seemed to be that God had undone my wickedness.
It was an early Sunday morning, when you left. The pain of you leaving startled me awake. Despite all of the physical sufferings that I have endured...that pain was unique. It was intense. I still remember your daddy asking what I wanted to do. I still remember him saying that we didn't have to go to church if I didn't want to. I still remember bawling my eyes out in church.
I have been told that the fact that you were conceived at all, means my tubal ligation didn't "stick". I don't really know. Truth be told, I was never supposed to conceive you are any of your brothers and sisters. Each of you have been beautiful miracles.
I suppose I can't help but wonder... did you leave because of my wickedness? Did I bring about your loss? Was God punishing me? Or were you simply just not meant to be?
I wish you were here. I wish I was holding you right now.
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