A Mother’s Refection

It was a very long and painful experience. Month after month of disappointments stretched into a year, then two years, then three, etc. We tried pretty much everything we could with the infertility specialists, and in-vitro fertilization was a new process and one for which we could not afford to pay anyway. The years marched on and pretty much everyone that we knew were having babies, it seemed as if it occurred by the simple snap of a finger for them. It became extremely difficult for me to look at other women who were pregnant while my stomach was flat and my arms ached to hold my own baby. And, nine years into the process there was only one possible thing left to try, but to try it I had to let my body rest for three months from the on slot of fertility drugs that were wreaking havoc on my body and my emotions. Then on November 6th, three days before my birthday, and it had been quite a stressful month for me, I was late, but that was nothing new. I called the fertility doctor, and made an appointment on my lunch hour to come in for a test. That was how it often went, I would be late, I would go in for a test, it would come back negative, and then I would start my period. However, this time as I was going through the all to familiar process, I heard the words that I had longed to hear for nine very, very, long years from the infertility nurse – “Looks like it’s positive to me.” I had to ask her to repeat what she said. Indeed, I had heard her correctly – “Your pregnancy test came back positive, congratulations!” I had to look at the test to make sure that I wasn’t dreaming. And that’s where my adventure to motherhood started. 
It was one of the best birthday presents that I ever received. My pregnancy went well, and I loved every single minute of being pregnant. I even didn’t mind when I threw up a few times. This child was the cry of my heart to God. God heard and answered my prayer. My due date was July 12th, and the OB assured me that the way I was carrying my baby that the baby would come early. However, God and my baby had a different idea. It was an extremely hot, hot July and I guess that my baby thought that he liked it better where he was. So, the doctor did not want the little bugger to stay cooking too long, I was scheduled to be induced on July 25th. They started the petocin IV around 7 a.m., and around 12:15 p.m. I was starting to feel contractions, my thought was, “I can handle this.” Well within 15-20 minutes I went from almost nothing, to full-blown transition. Ouch! Is all I can say. It was intense, and my body didn’t have time to build up into the heavy duty contraction phase. I asked for something to help with the pain, but unbeknownst to me, my baby’s heartbeat was suffering with the intensive contractions, they had to consult with the doctor, who was not in the room. And time went by, it about 45 minutes later when they decided that they couldn’t give me what I was asking for. The contractions were coming so fast and were so strong, with at most 10 seconds in between each one, so I couldn’t regroup. They then talked to me about an epidural, which was something I had not really wanted to start with. However, the immense pain won out, so I agreed. That started a long process of contacting the doctor again, and then getting the authorization, calling the pharmacy, and getting a hold of the anesthesiologist. I was having some real problems with the contractions and the pain, when around 3:30 p.m. I said “When in the @#%#@, is the anesthesiologist going to get here?” And I heard a voice behind me saying “I am right here.” All I could think of was “Thank, God,” Only then I heard the anesthesiologist said to me, “I am going to come around the other side to you and explain to you what I am going to do.” Those were NOT welcome words to my ears, as I was well past the the point of my endurance, and the following words came out of my mouth (and I am sure by this time my voice probably sounded like I was demon possessed) – “JUST DO IT!!!!!!” Needless to say the anesthesiologist got right to work, and within a couple of minutes, I got the sweet relief that I sorely needed. I had been going through that hectic pace without any opportunity to gather strength and rest for over three hours. I was exhausted! I distinctly remember looking at the clock on the wall and thinking to myself, “If I don’t have this baby by 5:30 p.m., I quit!” Ha! As if I could have quit. But finally, at 5:03 p.m. my baby boy, the child of my dreams was born. 
He had a bit of a rocky start with breathing difficulties so while I was sleeping the night he was born, they whisked him away into the special care nursery. They didn’t tell me until I woke up the next morning. It was scary going into the nursery and seeing him all wired up with all sorts of monitors. And, I couldn’t hold him. I put up a brave front for another day, and finally had a melt-down the third day, which is when I got to hold him. I had the heartbreak of having to leave him in the hospital when they discharged me. And, even though I was not supposed to drive, I did drive to the hospital every single day until he was released. 
He was fairly healthy for the first four months, and when I went back work in November, he switched to formula to supplement him. But, too soon, he preferred to bottle feed, so I stopped nursing him. And by the end of November – the night before Thanksgiving he got sick, so sick that we had to take him to the Emergency room. He had pneumonia. And, over the next four years, he had pneumonia ten times, and a few asthma attacks. We spent so much time at Dr Tom’s office, his beloved family doctor, who was the only one to finally figure out why my son was getting so sick all the time. My son was born with an immune deficiency, which he would outgrow. But, in the meantime, I learned to watch over him, I could tell simply by the way that he coughed, that by the end of the day, he would be in full-blown pneumonia again. I could call the doctor, and tell them that he’s coming down with it again, and into the offfice we would go. The very last times that he had pneumonia, it came in a succession of pneumonia in the lower left lung, then double pneumonia, in conjunction with mononucleosis. This was one long tough period. But, just as the doctors said, thankfully he outgrew his illnesses. 
Over the years, together my son and I have faced many challenges, and have butted heads more than once. He did dumb things, I did dumb things. He said dumb things, I said dumb things. He reacted negatively to some things, and so did I. There are things that I said, and did, while parenting him that I regret. And, today on Mother’s Day my almost 29 year-old son and I talked about it. I told him that for the times that I failed him, I was deeply sorry. I told him that whatever I did with him, I was trying to do my best through some very difficult situations that the family, and more specifically he and I had. It felt good to get it off of my chest. It felt good to hear from him, “I know you did the best that you could, Mom. I love you.”
So, today, this Mother’s Day, my son and I reached another plateau in our relationship, we’re now standing on different ground. I am thankful for God giving me my son, the desire of my heart for so very many years. And as far as my son goes, he still, and always will occupy a big piece of my heart. However old my son becomes, he will always be my baby, and I will always be in the background praying for him, and encouraging him to fulfill the plans that God has for him. 
Dear Father God, thank you for the gift of my son, so many years ago. Watch over him, mold him into the person that you want him to be. Keep him safe, call him to yourself. May he do mighty works for you Lord. I trust that you have the best plan for his life. I commit my son to you Lord, I trust you with him Lord and I pray that he in turn trusts in you, I know that you will act in my son’s life to bring about your destiny for him (Psalm 37:5). I ask all these things through Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior. Amen.

One thought on “A Mother’s Refection

  1. What a touching story. I have four adult children and when I look back there are so many things I wish I could change. Sometimes I feel that my children grew up to be amazing people in spite of me, not because of me. I’m continuing to work on my relationships with them but I have so many regrets. Each and every day I am grateful for my children and grandchildren but oh how I wiish I could go back and do things differently.


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