Birthdays and Butterflies
A butterfly party is all she wanted for her birthday. A butterfly party with wings and sparkly things, dancing, and a purple cake. Mommy, you will need to wear a dress. Maybe with flowers. Because flutterflies like flowers, Mommy. And I’m gonna be a flutterfly and I like you.
If truth be told, my entire pregnancy with Maggie had been a battle of faith. I had wanted to receive with joy the unexpected gift of a fifth child, but every shred of common-sense within me had screamed, God! Do you know what you’re doing? I can barely juggle the four children I’ve got! How will I possibly manage five? Really, Lord, do you know our life? I’m a doctor’s wife, Father! I don’t have a man who punches a clock and shows up at supper time to help me. You know that. We live by the ebb and flow of a pager that cries out everybody else’s emergencies and needs. Perhaps you could consider my needs, too, Lord.
Over the years, I had wrestled with the Lord on the great disparity that seemed to exist between the mother I wanted to be and the mother I really was. I had clung to the Apostle Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 12:10, but had secretly wondered if those words were meant for a flawed mom like me.
As the baby in my womb grew, so did my angst. Like a caterpillar wrapped tightly in its own cocoon, I was bound breathless by unspoken fear. I was already a mom in shambles. I was already that mom who showed up with my child at the wrong soccer field on the right day or arrived at the right field on the wrong day. I was already that mom who started classic read-alouds with her children but never finished. That mom who planned to teach her preschooler the ABCs but got distracted by the allure of mud puddles and sidewalk chalk. I was already that mom who forgot to send lunch money to school, that mom who was always the last one in the pick-up lane. My stretching stomach was just a constant reminder of my already stretched-too-thin life. And my sure-to-fail-again future. How would I ever become the mom I’d dreamed I would be with one more little life to juggle?
So it went, this wrestling match in my soul as I doubted God’s perfect plan and wondered if God really knew my limits and remembered my dreams. Each time I prayed, pleaded and cried, God simply whispered, “Trust me.” For a woman whose previous four labors had rarely lingered past the two-hour mark, the prospect of natural delivery was far more inviting than the c-section alternative. After praying with my doctor, I headed down the hallway for a quick ultrasound to confirm the baby’s position. The ultrasound confirmed my doctor’s hunch: a sweet round head was sitting right beneath my heart.
I returned to the medical clinic to share the news with my favorite doctor (my husband) and discovered he had some news to share with me as well. By the time I met Rob in the hallway, he’d received word that our baby’s upside down status wasn’t our only concern. My levels of amniotic fluid were unusually low. With a hug, Rob pulled me into his office; and proceeded to gently explain that the low fluid levels meant we couldn’t possibly turn the baby. We had no choice but to deliver our fifth child by c-section. I was mentally re-scripting the delivery I’d rehearsed a thousand times when Rob warned that the low fluid level could be indicative of other abnormalities. He listed the things that we might be facing and then squeezed my hand and with quiet confidence, he reminded me, God has known about this all along.
Shell-shocked, I left the clinic and headed home. By the time I stumbled into the house with two preschoolers flanking my sides, my answering machine was blinking with three urgent messages from the obstetrics department. The nurse on the other end of the line insisted that I return immediately. My doctor had consulted with a maternal fetal medicine specialist who had recommended that we get the baby out as soon as possible.I’m not sure why it took nine months of fighting the Holy One to finally surrender to His perfect plan, but in that moment, on that frigid January afternoon I took God up on His plea.
I trust you, Lord, I whispered as I pulled into the parking lot and walked through the hospital doors with no promise that the baby inside of me would be healthy and whole. I trust you.
As the able hands of the surgeon lifted my last-born from a bone-dry amniotic sac, the Lord, in his mercy, lifted me out of a season of fear and doubt. The wrestling match was over.
When our squirmy pink, completely healthy little girl was placed in my arms, I fell into the waiting arms of the One whose plans for my life are immeasurably more than I can ask or imagine. And I’m learning that in His grip, even flawed and maxed-out mamas can fly! Not to peaks of perfection, but to immeasurable heights of joy.
Turns out, I was right. I can’t parent five children well on my own. I am still that mom. But I have a Heavenly Father who fills in all of the gaps I leave and invites me to soar by faith as He leads the way day by day.
Maggie Hope!
The Overflow: “In my weakness, He is strong.”
-2 Corinthians 12:10
okay, I’m trying not to cry now- two of my dearest friends so far away.. why don’t you girls all just move to Iowa?
Love to you all.
Beautifully, beautifully written. God is doing amazing things in you, my friend!
Love,
Robin
Okay my beautiful friend, I cried almost through the entire post! Your so beautiful and I miss you!:)
You have the strongest faith of any woman I know!!!
I love the birthday pictures…they are precious…especially Lizzy’s skirt! 🙂 It’s funny because Brooke only wears basketball shorts and tshirts. So when I told her that Lizzy dresses up a bit for school now, ( I thought that’s what you said), she said nothing. Everyday since she has put on a pair of jeans and a tshirt (one with style)! 🙂 I think she misses her too! It was really cute! I guess if Lizzy can do it…so can Brooke!