Seven days before my twenty-first birthday, a precious gift beyond my wildest dreams entered my life – my son, Mateo. The arrival of my firstborn was a delightful shock to my husband and me, as we were not actively planning for a baby at that time. Despite our initial feelings of being too young and unprepared, the sheer joy and excitement of welcoming Mateo into the world swiftly overshadowed any apprehensions about being new parents. In an instant, we transformed into a loving family of three, filled with boundless love and newfound purpose.
As Mateo approached his second birthday, a longing for another child began to stir within me. With the assumption that conceiving would be as effortless as it had been the first time, my husband and I eagerly embarked on the journey of expanding our family. However, our hopes were soon met with unexpected challenges. The contraceptive method I had used post-Mateo had inadvertently disrupted my body’s natural rhythm, leading to difficulties in ovulation and conception. Despite reassurances from medical professionals that my body would readjust in a matter of months, the reality was far more daunting as time passed without the desired outcome.
Nearly two years of unsuccessful attempts to conceive took a toll on my emotional well-being, plunging me into a state of despair at the prospect of not being able to give Mateo a sibling. The haunting echoes of my families struggles with fertility cast a shadow over my own journey, with there being history of significant age gaps between children and heartbreaking miscarriages serving as cautionary tales. The fear of inheriting a similar fate weighed heavily on my mind, triggering a sense of frustration towards both myself and the forces beyond my control. In the midst of this emotional turmoil, I found myself grappling with doubts, uncertainties, and a deep-seated longing for a resolution to this challenging chapter of my life.
One day it became too much and all I could do was cry on my husband. As I reflected on the journey my family and I had been on, I realized that I had been seeking answers to our struggles in all the wrong places. I had consulted family members, doctors, and even turned to Google for guidance, but it wasn’t until I turned inward and reached out to my Jesus that things began to shift. Renouncing negative influences and placing my trust in God’s plan, I let go of the need to control the situation and instead surrendered to His will. It was a moment of profound peace when I finally stopped obsessing over tests and ovulation tracking, choosing to simply have faith in the divine timing of things.
It was during this period of surrender that subtle signs began to emerge, like my son innocently mentioning that a new sibling was on the way. While I initially dismissed it as wishful thinking, the repeated mentions piqued my curiosity. A few weeks later, following my husband’s advice, I took a pregnancy test, not expecting much. To my astonishment, the test came back a barely pink positive, filling me with overwhelming gratitude and awe. In that moment, I dropped to my knees in the bathroom, humbly thanking God for answering my prayers and embarking on this new chapter of our lives. It was a poignant reminder that amidst the noise of medical opinions and fears, true solace and guidance could be found in unwavering faith.
As the pregnancy progressed, my heart swelled with anticipation for the arrival of our second son. However, in the final weeks, my mind was plagued with worries about potential complications, particularly the fear of the umbilical cord wrapping around the baby’s neck. Nights were spent in restlessness, not due to physical discomfort, but due to the weight of anxiety and concern for the baby’s well-being. The looming questions about his size and health cast a shadow over what should have been a time of joyful expectation. Yet, through it all, I held onto the belief that divine protection would guide us through this period of uncertainty, reminding myself that I was not alone in this journey.
Just three days before my due date, the sun was filtering through the curtains as I woke up around 10 a.m. My routine always began with feeling the gentle kicks and movements of my unborn child within 30 minutes of opening my eyes. It was our special time – I’d talk and sing to my little one, feeling a deep connection that filled my heart with joy. However, on this particular day, something felt different. As the minutes ticked by, there were no familiar movements. Panic set in as I prodded my sleeping husband, urging him to wake up. In a whirlwind of urgency, we quickly decided to head to the hospital, with my husband calling my dad to take care of our oldest son and my mother to join us at the hospital.
Upon our arrival at the hospital, relief flooded through me as the medical staff managed to locate a heartbeat. Despite the initial delay and uncertainty, the sound of that tiny heartbeat was like music to my ears. By God’s grace, the baby kicked twice, and the heartbeat was detected, revealing that I was in the very early stages of contractions. The midwife suggested we could return home now that the scare seemed to be over, but a strong intuition and a quick prayer led us to reject that idea, and we were swiftly moved towards induction.
Eight intense hours passed before it was time for my little one to enter the world. As he came, sugar coated urgency from my nurse sister and the hospital staff eluded me to the reality of the situation that was unfolding – his umbilical cord was wrapped not once, but twice around his neck and once around his right foot. Fear gripped my heart as he arrived, appearing blue and in need of immediate medical attention to help him breathe and ensure his foot’s well-being. Moments later, the precious bundle weighing 9 lbs 6 oz was placed in my arms, my beautiful and healthy baby boy, Elijah.
Reflecting on that day, I can’t help but feel overwhelming gratitude for the protective hand that guided us through the ordeal. The decision to trust my instincts and stay for the delivery, despite the alternative advice, proved to be crucial in ensuring the safety of my son and myself. As I watch my now three-month-old son thriving and radiating happiness, I am filled with an immense sense of thankfulness for the answered prayers and the precious gift of my babies that God so generously blessed me with.
Proudly Powered by WordPress
The Proverbs Pantry 
Leave a comment