Chosen

When I was pregnant with Ella, it was easy to praise God daily. I had never been so happy, felt more beautiful, or enjoyed a season of my life so much as those 38 weeks. It was such a magical time in my life...finally becoming a mother.

It has never been easy for us to get pregnant. We have endured much heartache through the years while yearning and waiting on the Lord to bless us with the family we so desired. Last November, we thought we had been through the worst after enduring a miscarriage after finally conceiving. So when God placed these two babies in my womb in February, it seemed that like this was all part of his perfect plan. But a month ago, it all started to go down hill. I still believe in His plan, but I've yet to see the perfection in it.

Sometimes I just want to scream out "How much more can I take Lord? I cannot do this alone. I need your grace and mercy and healing hands to keep my babies tightly knitted in my womb until they are ready to survive in this world. God, please help me. Open up my eyes so I can see you at work here. I want to give you everything...but, please, don't take away my son and daughter."

The truth of the matter is that God already has their birthdays picked out for them. Only He knows how it will all work out in the end.

I am the woman He chose to carry this little girl and boy. And He CHOSE ME. He knew that I would fight for them until the very end. I want to praise Him for choosing me...but, how do you thank God for something as difficult as this? Why me God? I do not want this as part of my testimony. I just want to bring home two more healthy babies. I want to watch 3 kids play in the backyard...swinging on swings, building forts, and picking flowers that they aren't supposed to pick! I want to take one of those silly family pictures where we are all wearing red, white, and tan with matchy outfits from the GAP. I want to decorate two nurseries and take twin newborn photos with little knit hats.

I have made 24 weeks plus a few days. I have survived 5 weeks of strict bed rest. Many say that I must be a very strong person or that I must have great faith. The truth is, I am neither of these. When I speak of the hope and faith that I have, it is because the holy spirit has intervened and given me a moment of peace. In reality, I sometimes feel like I am barely getting through this.

It is NOT the bed rest that is especially hard. I've actually gotten used to that part, although I definitely have my moments where my heart aches to take Ella for a wagon ride. It is not the medication pump in my leg 24 hours a day, the eating meals while laying flat, or monitoring I have to do several times a day and sending the strip to my nurse via a modem that really is hard either. The hardest part is still having all day long contractions and never knowing if this going to "be the day." It is the anxiety of knowing that, if my children were born today, they would face long term problems.

I am begging God for a few more weeks.