I prayed probably one of the hardest prayers of my life last night. I have wanted to be a mom more than anything. One of my friends told me years ago that she remembered me saying back in high school that I wanted to be a mom. We were talking one day about what we wanted to be or do after high school. Every one else was listing college, the military, places they wanted to go, etc. My friend told me I just simply said I wanted to be a mom. I don’t remember that conversation though.
When I was 19, my sister had her first kid but she didn’t want the work. My mom and I were the ones who fed him, bathed him, changed a million diapers on him, took him to dr appointments, dealt with temper tantrums, rocked him, played with him, encouraged him to learn all of his firsts.
My hardest time with him was when he was 10 months old. He had to stay in the hospital overnight for three consecutive nights. Technically, we could have left him there in the care of the nurses and just gone home but my mom and I didn’t feel right about that. My sister refused to stay with him and my mom asked me to and so I did. We lived a long distance from the hospital so there were no family visits, just me, my nephew, and the hospital staff for three days.
One afternoon he was sitting in his little crib happily playing with toys, I was sitting a few feet away reading a book, and he suddenly let out an ear piercing scream. I looked up and saw him holding the end of a tube they had inserted down his throat and into his stomach. He had ripped it completely out.
Nurses and a doctor came in and they said the tube had to be put back in his stomach. The doctor also said the baby would have to be restrained. I struggled hard with standing by and watching them force him to let them put the tube back down his throat. Then the doctor left and the nurses then proceeded to strap both of the baby’s arms to the railings on each side of the crib.
The baby was screaming and thrashing his head side to side and I completely broke down. I wanted to hold him so badly and I couldn’t even pick him up at that point. I was 20 by then and probably still so inexperienced. The dr had said to restrain him and I remember being afraid that if I said no or tried to undo the restraints that I would be in trouble. My heart was breaking watching the baby being so horribly upset, and I wanted to comfort him so bad, that I did the only thing I could think of: I climbed up in the crib the best way that I could and tried to hold the baby sideways. I think I was crying just as hard as Matt was by that point.
A few minutes later, the same dr who had ordered the restraint walked past the door way and saw what was happening. He screamed for the nurse and got on her severely for strapping the baby down to the bed. It turned out he had meant for her to put some kind of board type restraint on just the baby’s arms, just enough to prevent his elbows from bending so he couldn’t rip the tube back out again. Apologies were made and I spent the rest of that afternoon holding the baby in my lap, rocking him and singing to him.
I do know without a doubt that by Matt’s first birthday, I knew I wanted a baby of my own some day. I never thought then that I’d try to adopt one. My assumption was I’d get married one day and have my own babies. I don’t think I thought a whole lot of it when I hit my 30s and still didn’t have one. Lots of women have babies on into their 30s. Now, though, I’m 40 and there is not one single day that goes by that I don’t think about it. One of my friends told me I’m obsessed with it and she’s probably right. But probably no more obsessed than anyone else who’s hung on to hopes of fulfilling a life long dream for 20 years now.
This is my second attempt at trying to pass DHHR’s home study process. I’m trying to hold onto my hopes but at the same time I also struggle with the fears of possibly receiving a second denial letter. I am currently at the same stage I was at when things didn’t work out the first time.
Up until last night all of my prayers have been spent begging and pleading with God to please, please, PLEASEEEE let this happen, making promises to God that I’ll do everything just right and be the very best mother I can be if He’ll just let me have just one child. I’d love to have more but I’m to the point I’d feel like the most blessed woman on earth if I could have just one.
I’ve tried figuring out what I need to do to finally be worthy of it in God’s eyes, that maybe there’s something I should be doing that I haven’t been and maybe that’s why God hasn’t allowed me a child but something tells me I could live as close to ‘perfect’ as humanly possible and still not have a child.
The small group I attend just finished a study on ‘idols’ that we have in our lives. Anything can become an idol in your life if you put it before God instead of keeping God first. Years ago I thought only statues or little budda figurines could be idols. On a side note, my mom used to have three little budda figurines when I was a kid. I used to think their big fat bellies were the funniest things ever. I’d rub each of their fat bellies, make a wish, and run off laughing to go play with my toys.
My friend, Karen, once accussed me of having idols in my life and I vehemently denied the accusation. I didn’t own any little god statues and I thought the idea of bowing down and praying to one was so stupid. I had the mindset that I’d never do anything like that. Then I learned idols aren’t just gold, bronze, or even little fat bellied budda statues. Idols can be money, possessions, fame… So, then I tried to work on not worshipping money or possessions, the things that I thought were probably my two biggest idols. I realize some people worship certain people, I’ve been guilty of that too. But, I hadn’t thought, before last night at least, that a dream could ever become an idol. A dream that you could become obsessed with, that you would do anything and everything within your power to accomplish. A dream that could even put God on the back burner, only really bringing Him back to the for front long enough to literally beg him for the umpteenth time to please let you have it.
In one sense, my prayers haven’t been wrong. They have been the most sincere, heart outpouring that they could be. I have meant every single promise I have made in them. And, if God chooses to fulfill it, there will be praises to Him that will probably make all other praises pale in comparison. But…
I realized for the first time last night that I have made my life long dream of mothering my own child an idol in my life. I realized last night that I was so honest when I said I wanted to be a mom more than absolutely anything and, that ‘anything’ had come to mean even more than God Himself.
My prayer last night was the hardest thing for me. I told God that I was sorry that I had allowed my dream to mean more to me than He did. I told Him that I knew He knows how badly I want this but He also knows, even more than I do, what is actually best. I told Him that if its necessary for me not to have this deepest desire of my heart in order for me to put Him first where He belongs, then please help me to accept that it isn’t His will. I asked Him to please help me learn to cling to Him and to trust Him irregardless of rather He blesses me with a child or even if He doesn’t choose to. I also asked Him to make His desires the things that my heart desires as well.