Two nights ago I had a dream about a baby. It was someone else's baby in the beginning. I think we were having a contest about baby care? It was absurd, I know this. But at the end of the contest, no one came to pick up the baby. So, I'm hauling this child around. He was a chubby, blond, curly haired little guy, maybe 9 months old that snuggled in like he'd never known another mama. Eventually, he morphed into Frodo, but since both Frodo and Charming were in the dream, he wasn't actually Frodo, but a baby who resembled him. I loved him.
When I woke, I could not let this baby go. And though the emptiness has worn off its hurtful edges, I still miss him.
This isn't the first baby dream I've had. I had one, oh, five years and nine months ago. Three weeks before Charming was created.
In that dream, I was in the hospital visiting someone, but "they" wanted me to see a baby. I refused to look at the baby because I just knew that if I did, something would change. "They" continued to encourage me to look and when I finally gave in I was filled with a love so complete, so overwhelming, that I began to sob. I picked her up and apologized profusely for rejecting her. She was a perfect copy of my Princess.
When I woke from this dream, sobbing, I asked God what it meant. I wish I could find the journal where I wrote the impressions on my heart that night, but alas, I am a clutterbug and have far too many half finished journals stacked on far too many shelves. But anyway, it was very much: I have another child for you and you are doing everything in your power to avoid this gift.
I wish I could tell you that I repented on the spot. I did not. We "fought" for hours. a) I was completely overwhelmed with my three. b) I had terrible post-partum psychoses that went way beyond depression. c) I hate childbirth. And He returned a) children are a gift from the Lord. b) my strength is made perfect in weakness and c) have I not removed the curse? And because I am a child of God who desperately wanted to go back to sleep, I finally said "OK, but you are going to have to trick me, because there is NO WAY I'm going to do that to myself intentionally." And went back to sleep.
I ovulated on day 8.
The rest is history.
So when I woke on Wednesday missing that baby, do you think I said, "OK, God. What am I supposed to learn here?"
N.O.
I pretended it was not the vivid dream that requires a prayer for inquiry. I pretended it was a really strange dream in which I had two Frodos. Now is not the time to have a baby. I'm bringing a very needy child into the family, for crying out loud. I'm 36. I have five children. Surely if this dream meant anything, it is that God intends to show me another child to adopt.
A blond, blue eyed, curly haired baby. Nine months old. Someone else's baby. God did not give me a heart for adoption so that I could give birth a dozen times. That makes absolutely no sense.
And now, for the toe stomping. *disclaimer* The following is not a cleverly masked attack on anyone else or their particular decisions. It has nothing to do with conversations I may or may not have recently had with you. This is MY situation and MY heart and MY conviction. Nothing more and nothing less. It is also not an invitation for you to give me any advice unless you have a thus sayeth the Lord, and I will even question that OK? OK. Moving on.
The thing is, Brent and I have been discussing family size and babies and permanency. I guess once you have three/four/five children, people begin to think you should be "done." Perfect strangers, or at least distant acquaintances think this is a completely reasonable question to ask you at the library, or the grocery store, or on your Facebook page. It is something they discuss in polite society over coffee. Which is a little bizarre to me. My answer is typically, "I don't know. Nothing permanent has been done." And since people think they can ask these types of things, I guess it is fair game to put on a blog that my dad and mother-in-law read.
Have we considered permanency? Yes.
Have we done it? No.
Do we revisit the question frequently? Yes.
Do I want to be pregnant at 36? No.
Are we open to more children? Yes.
Do we feel like we need more genetic children? No.
Do we feel OK with expanding our family through adoption? Yes.
Do we feel like we would be missing anything if we never had another baby? No.
Can we find a thousand reasons why this is OK? Yes.
Has God given us permission. No.
*Tangent* When I was suffering though infertility and miscarriage I made a very vocal promise: I will NEVER use birth control until I am SURE I am done because I would never be able to forgive myself if I prevented a baby and then couldn't get pregnant later.
After Charming was born, I asked God to break me. The prayer was very much like this: God, I know I asked you to heal my womb and I thank you for it, but if you could break me again that would be great.
Two years ago I had a miscarriage. My prayer has haunted me. Was it a planned pregnancy? No. Do I mourn that life? Yes.
So, here's the thing. I have been petitioning God for permission to permanently render us sterile and He is withholding permission. I can come up with lots of holy reasons why it should be OK and yet I'm not free to make that call.
So when I finally nutted it up yesterday and asked God what my dream meant, it was very clearly made to me: I am waiting for permission that probably will not ever come. If God is the author and creator of all life, He has a pretty good idea what is and is not right for my family. Making this choice is playing God. For me, it is sin to proceed.
Dang it. I've never been an open womb/closed womb person. I hate eating my words.
Now, will I commit a thousand little sins in direct avoidance of the one big one? No promises.
Is it possible that there is a little boy in foster care or the Ukraine or somewhere else that makes blond, blue eyed babies that look just like my biological children waiting for me? Yes.
Is it likely? Who knows?
When I woke, I could not let this baby go. And though the emptiness has worn off its hurtful edges, I still miss him.
This isn't the first baby dream I've had. I had one, oh, five years and nine months ago. Three weeks before Charming was created.
In that dream, I was in the hospital visiting someone, but "they" wanted me to see a baby. I refused to look at the baby because I just knew that if I did, something would change. "They" continued to encourage me to look and when I finally gave in I was filled with a love so complete, so overwhelming, that I began to sob. I picked her up and apologized profusely for rejecting her. She was a perfect copy of my Princess.
When I woke from this dream, sobbing, I asked God what it meant. I wish I could find the journal where I wrote the impressions on my heart that night, but alas, I am a clutterbug and have far too many half finished journals stacked on far too many shelves. But anyway, it was very much: I have another child for you and you are doing everything in your power to avoid this gift.
I wish I could tell you that I repented on the spot. I did not. We "fought" for hours. a) I was completely overwhelmed with my three. b) I had terrible post-partum psychoses that went way beyond depression. c) I hate childbirth. And He returned a) children are a gift from the Lord. b) my strength is made perfect in weakness and c) have I not removed the curse? And because I am a child of God who desperately wanted to go back to sleep, I finally said "OK, but you are going to have to trick me, because there is NO WAY I'm going to do that to myself intentionally." And went back to sleep.
I ovulated on day 8.
The rest is history.
So when I woke on Wednesday missing that baby, do you think I said, "OK, God. What am I supposed to learn here?"
N.O.
I pretended it was not the vivid dream that requires a prayer for inquiry. I pretended it was a really strange dream in which I had two Frodos. Now is not the time to have a baby. I'm bringing a very needy child into the family, for crying out loud. I'm 36. I have five children. Surely if this dream meant anything, it is that God intends to show me another child to adopt.
A blond, blue eyed, curly haired baby. Nine months old. Someone else's baby. God did not give me a heart for adoption so that I could give birth a dozen times. That makes absolutely no sense.
And now, for the toe stomping. *disclaimer* The following is not a cleverly masked attack on anyone else or their particular decisions. It has nothing to do with conversations I may or may not have recently had with you. This is MY situation and MY heart and MY conviction. Nothing more and nothing less. It is also not an invitation for you to give me any advice unless you have a thus sayeth the Lord, and I will even question that OK? OK. Moving on.
The thing is, Brent and I have been discussing family size and babies and permanency. I guess once you have three/four/five children, people begin to think you should be "done." Perfect strangers, or at least distant acquaintances think this is a completely reasonable question to ask you at the library, or the grocery store, or on your Facebook page. It is something they discuss in polite society over coffee. Which is a little bizarre to me. My answer is typically, "I don't know. Nothing permanent has been done." And since people think they can ask these types of things, I guess it is fair game to put on a blog that my dad and mother-in-law read.
Have we considered permanency? Yes.
Have we done it? No.
Do we revisit the question frequently? Yes.
Do I want to be pregnant at 36? No.
Are we open to more children? Yes.
Do we feel like we need more genetic children? No.
Do we feel OK with expanding our family through adoption? Yes.
Do we feel like we would be missing anything if we never had another baby? No.
Can we find a thousand reasons why this is OK? Yes.
Has God given us permission. No.
*Tangent* When I was suffering though infertility and miscarriage I made a very vocal promise: I will NEVER use birth control until I am SURE I am done because I would never be able to forgive myself if I prevented a baby and then couldn't get pregnant later.
After Charming was born, I asked God to break me. The prayer was very much like this: God, I know I asked you to heal my womb and I thank you for it, but if you could break me again that would be great.
Two years ago I had a miscarriage. My prayer has haunted me. Was it a planned pregnancy? No. Do I mourn that life? Yes.
So, here's the thing. I have been petitioning God for permission to permanently render us sterile and He is withholding permission. I can come up with lots of holy reasons why it should be OK and yet I'm not free to make that call.
So when I finally nutted it up yesterday and asked God what my dream meant, it was very clearly made to me: I am waiting for permission that probably will not ever come. If God is the author and creator of all life, He has a pretty good idea what is and is not right for my family. Making this choice is playing God. For me, it is sin to proceed.
Dang it. I've never been an open womb/closed womb person. I hate eating my words.
Now, will I commit a thousand little sins in direct avoidance of the one big one? No promises.
Is it possible that there is a little boy in foster care or the Ukraine or somewhere else that makes blond, blue eyed babies that look just like my biological children waiting for me? Yes.
3 comments:
Jamie, I am praying for you as never before! ((HUGS))
**Comments that I will share later, one-on-one, over unfortunately non-Ethiopian coffee**
love this. join my club, girl. I have been just about every place that you have traveled here, and prayed these prayers. All I have learned is that God has a sense of humor. Especially when you tell Him you are done with anything.
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