This might seem like such a rambling and scattered post, but I just have to share.
Today has been a little rough. The boys picked up an infection, and when something like that happens, I sit and blame myself for everything. I usually start with blaming myself for not being careful enough and almost always end up back at blaming myself for them being born so early, which is why thier little immune systems just aren't the best. Annnnd then I get mopey and start feeling sorry for myself and thinking about our time in the NICU. Then I usually end up crying like a hormonal lunatic over my boys, stroking thier cheeks, and telling them how beautiful they are. Then I usually perk up a little and then I start crying again because I'm just so happy. I'm a mess these days, guys. But it got me thinking about the really good part of my journey over the last few months.
Recently at church, we had a guest speaker give the sermon. He spoke about discipleship and sharing your story and sharing how God has been there for you. (At least that's the part I heard. The boys started crying then and I wasn't able to hang around for much more. Sigh.)
So here is a little fragment of my story:
I've shared my birth story, and it was one of the most frightening and unsettling times of my life, I won't deny that. Especially since I had completely planned how my twins would come into this world:
I was definitely supposed make it to 36 weeks AT LEAST. All of the twin moms that I had found on Pintrest had made it until then, so duh.
During labor, my water would break on its own. I would be home for that part, obviously.
My bag would be perfectly Pinterestingly packed; I'd have a beautiful gown (Etsy), warm, but adorable, socks, the nice maxi pads, lip balm, "The Essentials" in my makeup bag (because I had to look good right? For all those pictures I was going to have professionally taken after), and perfect little outfits for B&B.
Brian would drive me. I'd have aromatherapy to keep me calm and warm compresses to help prevent the need for an episiotomy (a doula on Pinterest). I'd put on my playlist. I'd use my stability ball like the whole time and Brian would rub my shoulders as I breathed. I was going to give birth in a squatting position.
Unmedicated, of course, just like my mom had done.
It would probably only take a few hours just like all the women in my family. I had watched tons of twin birth videos on YouTube, so there was no reason mine couldn't go just like that. Skin to skin was critical and completely going to happen so that neither boy would grow up to be Ted Bundy.
I had a plan. It was smooth and easy and I was confident about it.
God knew that things weren't going to go according to my plan.
For those who have read, my world came crashing down in a flash. All my plans flew out the window and I was left in a pretty dark place.
I realized years ago after losing my brother that God isn't a magical genie here to grant our every wish. He isn't some kind of Santa figure who bestows gifts on good boys and girls. God is GOOD, but that doesn't always mean that we get what we want. BUT from God we get everything that we NEED. After my brother died, God gave me strength. He continues to do that for me every day.
I don't think that it's any coincidence that on my first full day home from this hospital this was the passage in my copy of Jesus Calling:
Truly, this set the entire tone for our stay in the NICU. It was a journey that kept me close to God by making me so dependent on him that he was my only hope and comfort.
What I wanted was a perfect birth and a joyful occasion. What I NEEDED was a reminder of my dependence on God and his grace. I needed a reason to draw closer. An opportunity to petition for peace daily.
I have a good relationship with Jesus. I love him and I pray often. I also have a good life. I've experienced trauma and loss. More than some, but far less than others. But although I have significantly more good than bad in my life, my times of trauma and loss have proven to be the most beneficial to my relationship with Christ.
My boys spent 49 days in the NICU. Some days were absolutely gut wrenching, other days were just long. Every day I needed peace, and every day I prayed for strength, and every day God gave me enough to make it through that day. He held me close. He sustained me. He made me dependent on him and through that helped me to grow my faith.
I'll never be the same after watching my tiny, fragile sons overcome what they did. How could I ever doubt God's love for me or his ability to grant me peace in my times of need? On days when I felt I could take no more, God would give the boys a boost. On days when I felt alone, God surrounded me with his love and presence. On days when my boys made strides, God allowed me to witness his miracles up close.
God is a HUGE part of my story. He is all the good that there is. God has always been there to hold me up.
Things in life have not ever really gone the way that I've hoped, imagined, or planned. Whose life does go that way? My life in no way reflects my perfect Pintrest boards. But that's because we live in an imperfect world, and I'm an imperfect person. Despite my sins and imperfections, I am forgiven and God has allowed so many blessings to come my way. The greatest of these being my two boys.
I guess I still hate the way that my boys came into this world. I still cry sometimes when I think about it and I still feel a little robbed sometimes because I had so many other plans for them, but I love the dependence on God that I gained from it. It might seem like an odd thing to say, but it really has made such a difference in my life. I would hate for anyone to read my birth story and think that it was all bad. I mean, it was, but I wasn't alone and it wasn't for nothing. I have to find the good, and I'm able to find it in God.
I still like my original plan waaaay better than the way things panned out, but I wouldn't have gained all that I did from that route. And God sees how everything will turn out in the end, and I have to trust that no matter what.
Positives of our stay in the NICU:
- I gained an even greater dependence on God.
- I learned things I wouldn't have learned otherwise.
- I met some amazing people with incredible hearts for babies.
- I now have great compassion and understanding for preemie families! We ARE a preemie family!
- We have an unrivaled appreciation for late night feedings, changings, etc.. We take NOTHING for granted!
- My boys are happy and healthy and HOME!
Essentially I guess that all I hope is that maybe someone reading this might one day be able to see the benefit of hard times. There are so many awful things that happen in this world, but none of those things indicate the absence of God. He is always there to provide what is needed. I'm so grateful for the reminder of my dependence and for the opportunity to grow in my faith.
It's the most important part of my story.
