It’s a Girl!

At 8:06 PM on Monday, June 24, 1985, those words brought me to tears—tears of JOY that I had a baby GIRL and tears of JOY that the 25 hours of labor were over!

Well—the labor was over, but not the (physical) pain. I looked a mess and two days later my doctor would say, “You look like you’ve been in a fight…and lost!” The birth of my firstborn had left behind something that would never heal—a broken tailbone. But I must say, she had a perfectly shaped ROUND head and was not going to give in to making her entrance as a “conehead.” However her persistence, evidenced by the pounding on my coccyx, gave her a large bruise on the back of her little head and the subsequent jaundice kept both of us in the hospital for five days. For that I was glad—it gave me a few days to learn how to walk and how to go to the bathroom again (I also had 4th degree lacerations—not going there!) and for my sister, Joy, to make it to Florida from Tennessee so that she could help me out—and decorate for our HOMECOMING!

Now before someone thinks that the date has only a negative memory, let me take you back to 1977…

After several months of amenorrhea, I decided something had to be done. Nervously, I told my sister that I had not had a period for over six months. According to the medical experts, and the homegrown gossips, the primary cause of amenorrhea is pregnancy. That at least was the only reason that I was aware of and the next several months would find me having to shamefacedly answer questions about the last time I had menstruated and had sex. Both questions were easy to answer; I had kept a calendar for the first one and had never experienced the second one!  So after three more months of doctor visits that included being sent to a “specialist” in Knoxville (40 miles away), pelvic exams (totally outside my comfort zone), blood tests (that had to be sent to a lab in California), and ultrasounds (yeah, I know, I was NOT pregnant), I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Disease, today referred to PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome). Along with the diagnosis came the prognosis of “you’ll never be able to have children without fertility pills” (remember that by now this was early 1978) and “in order for your body to be normal, you’ll have to take birth control pills.”

Well…now what was this church-going girl from the hills of East Tennessee going to do with THAT bit of NEWS! Considering that the only people on BCP were “loose” and given the fact that I had a sister living in my house who was an unwed teenage mother, absolutely nothing! After all I did have a black-and-white TV at my house, did read the newspaper, and did live on a farm, and this is what I surmised: Fertility drugs cause multiple births. And multiple births are called a LITTER! I am a human, so I will remain childless.

This survival instinct also contributed to a lack of self-worth that I already struggled with as a result of other issues (another story). For the stories that I had been taught in church included those of Sarah, Leah, Rachel, Hannah, and Mary. My thinking: To be childless is a curse and brings rejection. An immaculate conception happens only once because it means your child is crucified. So in order not to experience rejection and disappointment, I do not want children.

For five years, the above fallacies controlled my thinking and actions. I married a man who already had two children and this fit perfectly into my state of mind. My worth would not hinge on whether I could have children of my own. But after two years of marriage and living apart from everyone I knew, I was lonely and wanted a child of my own. I stopped taking the BCP and six months later found myself across the desk from a “specialist” in High Point, NC, hearing the same words I had heard before except this time I had a husband at my side and the words stabbed my heart. But the major difference was the fact that the years of being lonely had provided me with the opportunity to get alone with God and cultivate a relationship founded on truths from His Word! I began to search the scriptures and put my faith and prayers to the test as I read and prayed:

Philippians 1:4 Always in every prayer of mine for you all making request with joy,…6 Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ:7 Even as it is meet for me to think this of you all, because I have you in my heart;…8 For God is my record, how greatly I long after you all in the bowels of Jesus Christ…11 Being filled with the fruits of righteousness, which are by Jesus Christ, unto the glory and praise of God.

Psalm 113:9 He maketh the barren woman to keep house, and to be a joyful mother of children. Praise ye the Lord.

John 16:24 Hitherto have ye asked nothing in my name: ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full.

Not only did I begin praying these scriptures, but I believed that God would work everything out according to His divine plan. I did not dwell on the “how,” instead I just tried to live a life of faith and trust. A few months later found us living back in Florida. Although we were now geographically closer to his two children, circumstances hindered the bonding that could have brought me closer to them emotionally. With this obstacle, I plunged into a career as a junior accountant at the local cable TV franchise with full attention given to learning as much as possible including more about my boss—a strong woman who overcame life’s unfair obstacles with grace as she grew in character (another story maybe). One thing her story taught me was the importance of making memories and establishing traditions.

I have always loved Thanksgiving because it is a time to count the blessings that we have and not focus on those things that we do not have. So I decided to use that holiday as my first memory-making time to give back to all my in-laws by providing a holiday meal. Thanksgiving 1984 gave me the first opportunity to prepare dinner for my Florida family who I was learning more about and growing to love more with each day. It was my time to show appreciation for accepting me into the family. Years later the holiday would become the annual family gathering as we established Thanksgiving traditions on Thanksgiving Eve and Thanksgiving Day. These days held special significance because of what happened on Thanksgiving 1984—not just a memory of a meal, but the memory of the POSITIVE home pregnancy test! I was going to get my JOY!

And seven months later, she arrived! The child I longed for and who has brought me so much JOY arrived and elevated me to the highest calling known to woman—Mommy!

Lesson learned: When the experts give a diagnosis, trust God with the prognosis!

For the most part, this I’ve done…ON PURPOSE!