Whole

There’s a shadow there, where that second line is supposed be. I can feel it almost more than I can see it. I’m pregnant.

My mind immediately flashes back to my last pregnancy, when shock faded into fear and resentment of the discomfort and unknowns of a second pregnancy so quickly following the first. A year after my second baby was born, when I finally managed to form a bond with her after a mildly traumatic birth and postpartum time ravaged by crippling anxiety, I vowed to myself that I would never resent a pregnancy again no matter what the circumstances. Resentment and anger are far too expensive.

So this time, as I settle into this new reality, I give thanks for an opportunity to do this right. To trust God with my countless questions and the daily challenges of pregnancy, the postpartum rollercoaster, and the whole new human entering our family. This is my second chance, I tell myself. 

And tell myself, I did. On the days where going up 6 stairs at once was too much to do without stopping midway, when mothering looked like lying on the concrete in the backyard while the toddlers played around me, and on the days when I would wake up 7 months pregnant to this huge belly, take a deep breathe, and accept it all over again. I began to appreciate the value of life on a deeper level. This little person’s life is worth every bit of the strength it takes to endure the moment by moment difficulty of pregnancy. Which means my life (and all lives) is worth any amount of growth and labor to revive. After a lifetime struggle with anxiety and depression, that was a lesson I needed to learn.

I took opportunities to affirm my unconditional love for the tiny mystery within. I distinctly remember greeting baby the first time I could feel a fullness growing in my lower abdomen while I stretched. Hands on my belly, I affirmed, 

“You are wanted, little one. I love you and I will always love you no matter what.”

Not many weeks later I found myself sitting on the couch reading the Bible, which wasn’t entirely characteristic of me. I stumbled upon the book of Tobit and read one of the most beautiful stories of my life about 2 people who were despairing to the point of asking God to take their lives. Hmm, this sounds more familiar than I care to admit.

And He sent them an angel named Raphael. Then followed a tale of the restoration of hope, joy, and life beyond these souls’ wildest dreams. Tears fell and time slipped away. “This is my child,” I thought to myself. “He is restoring me, giving me a chance to grow and to receive life with joy, to rebuild the relationship with God that my fears and pride had wrecked. This is my Raphael.” And indeed I felt a companionship, an angelic presence as I walked with this new life budding. I no longer felt alone.

At this point we didn’t know the gender. Fast forward 2 months and it was the big day. The midwife spent a rather extended time searching to find nothing, which she posited as girl. We’ll try again in a few weeks.

This time there was much more anticipation in James and I. James already felt outnumbered by the estrogen in the household. I had decided that if this child was not male I would never use the name Raphael. It was far too perfect a fit for this situation.

The first 5 minutes of the ultrasound felt like forever and this was turning into the previous inconclusive “probably a girl” “baby just won’t turn around” scenario. Something hit me and I sunk deep within and told baby, “Baby, we will love you just the same one way or the other. You are unconditionally loved and accepted. It is safe to show us who you are.”  Within 90 seconds there was whooping and squealing and prime photographic evidence that we indeed had a little boy. Raphael.

I carried my angel for another 4.5 months, allowing this grace to redeem every aspect of pregnancy possible. My absolute favorite part was around 35 weeks of pregnancy when I had previously hit the wall of “I’m done now” and become a rather impatient and ungrateful human being. I was walking along Bear creek with the mountains and fields for company and felt something very different come up almost immediately after the first inkling of “done”. 

“This time is a gift. In 5 short weeks this human will be known as who he is to all the world, once and for all, never to be unknown again in this way. For the next 5 weeks I have the honor of holding this kingly presence within and respecting the mystery of what I carry in the deepest, most intimate part of me and yet, do not know.”

I knew then and do now that this child would change the world. I felt utterly awed by his presence and yet more amazed that I be the one to bear him earth-side. The last weeks of pregnancy glowed with a peaceful acceptance unparalleled by any of my other pregnancies.

There are more occasions than I can count since then that I have experienced this distinct presence my son has that brings a peace and majesty to everything he does and every place he enters. Ever a lover of nature, birds, art, mountains, and stories, he has a peaceful, pure spirit that is entirely unique. This is Raphael, bearer of wholeness.