As far back as I can remember, I felt I was created for three purposes. One has yet to see its complete fulfillment, so I won't comment here. A second was writing. A third was to raise a large family.
Legacy, to me is important, and people view it different ways, according to their gifts, talents, and vocations. As far back into my memory as my mind will stretch, I remember saying I wanted to raise ten kids. My own family history had no precedent for that desire. My mother was one of two; my father was one of two; my sister has two. My mother's brother never married; my father's brother has four children, and they have small families, one child a piece, I believe.
When I was expecting my first baby, I had a dream where I saw all six of my children, right down to looks, personalities, etc. The only glitch in that vision is that I dreamed Timothy as a girl, which has become family urban legend. When I awakened, I began letting go of my goal of ten and adjusted it to six. I can't explain it, but there was something about that dream that made me realize it was true.
Still, when people learn I've had six Cesarean sections, they either blanche or can't believe it.
The formal reason, the reason the world would believe, is because of the hacked up job doctor number one performed. But like the doings Pharoah of the Old Testament who would not release the Israelites, I believe God had his hand in the doings of my doctor, because scripture always insisted that God hardened Pharoah's heart.
Too much of a digression to address it here, but, had obstetrician number been more competent, I would have chosen home birth for subsequent pregnancies, had I survived them, that is. What no one knew until 2002 was that my body harbored a rare, lethal adrenal gland tumor that caused most of the complications I experienced during seven pregnancies (I miscarried one baby). The semi-retired endocrinologist that oversaw my follow-up treatment had only seen one pheochromocytoma patient: She was pregnant and died during delivery. You see, as the baby came down her birth canal, it passed over the adrenal gland and released massive amounts of deadly catecholamines (epinephrine, etc.).
Pheochromocytomas are not anyone's friend. I found and tracked mine. Mayo Clinic was impressed. Again, another story.
Standard medical advice is for women to limit themselves to three C/sections. Multiple surgical deliveries bring a host of possible future complications: placenta acreta (where the placenta implants into scar tissue, making it hazardous, if not impossible to remove during delivery), placenta previa (where the placenta, seeking a fresh spot to implant, selects a spot in the lower part of the uterus. As the uterus expands, the placenta tears, and bleeds, sometimes dangerously so), and, of course, uterine rupture. That's not even mentioning the risks of surgery, of which the woman is repeatedly exposed.
And yet, I chose this route double the recommended amount of times. It wasn't rational; it wasn't standard. Why did I do it?
Because in 1981, I believed in something I could not yet see or feel. My only experience of that first baby that autumn was that I threw up 24/7 and had to drop out of my remaining college classes (I was a journalism major and never completed that degree. Funny the turns life takes). Yet, I acted on the belief that this was part of God's intention for my life, even though its fullness was hidden from me and would stay hidden from me for decades.
So when Christopher's fiancee Jennifer planned a surprise birthday party for him on Sunday, it occurred to everyone we finally had an opportunity for a family photo, as Sarah and Lucas were in town. The day was mild, so after dinner, I went for a walk, reflecting and reveling in the old neighborhood, so full of fabulous memories.
I thought through the years; I pondered the challenges ahead. Despite the fear and sometimes high medical drama that accompanied some of those pregnancies and C/sections, I never regretted following what God had placed in my heart. And I certainly don't regret that now. Here is the result of that faith. May God show each of you the path where you must walk, and may you have the courage and fortitude to take each step.
Legacy, to me is important, and people view it different ways, according to their gifts, talents, and vocations. As far back into my memory as my mind will stretch, I remember saying I wanted to raise ten kids. My own family history had no precedent for that desire. My mother was one of two; my father was one of two; my sister has two. My mother's brother never married; my father's brother has four children, and they have small families, one child a piece, I believe.
When I was expecting my first baby, I had a dream where I saw all six of my children, right down to looks, personalities, etc. The only glitch in that vision is that I dreamed Timothy as a girl, which has become family urban legend. When I awakened, I began letting go of my goal of ten and adjusted it to six. I can't explain it, but there was something about that dream that made me realize it was true.
Still, when people learn I've had six Cesarean sections, they either blanche or can't believe it.
The formal reason, the reason the world would believe, is because of the hacked up job doctor number one performed. But like the doings Pharoah of the Old Testament who would not release the Israelites, I believe God had his hand in the doings of my doctor, because scripture always insisted that God hardened Pharoah's heart.
Too much of a digression to address it here, but, had obstetrician number been more competent, I would have chosen home birth for subsequent pregnancies, had I survived them, that is. What no one knew until 2002 was that my body harbored a rare, lethal adrenal gland tumor that caused most of the complications I experienced during seven pregnancies (I miscarried one baby). The semi-retired endocrinologist that oversaw my follow-up treatment had only seen one pheochromocytoma patient: She was pregnant and died during delivery. You see, as the baby came down her birth canal, it passed over the adrenal gland and released massive amounts of deadly catecholamines (epinephrine, etc.).
Pheochromocytomas are not anyone's friend. I found and tracked mine. Mayo Clinic was impressed. Again, another story.
Standard medical advice is for women to limit themselves to three C/sections. Multiple surgical deliveries bring a host of possible future complications: placenta acreta (where the placenta implants into scar tissue, making it hazardous, if not impossible to remove during delivery), placenta previa (where the placenta, seeking a fresh spot to implant, selects a spot in the lower part of the uterus. As the uterus expands, the placenta tears, and bleeds, sometimes dangerously so), and, of course, uterine rupture. That's not even mentioning the risks of surgery, of which the woman is repeatedly exposed.
And yet, I chose this route double the recommended amount of times. It wasn't rational; it wasn't standard. Why did I do it?
Because in 1981, I believed in something I could not yet see or feel. My only experience of that first baby that autumn was that I threw up 24/7 and had to drop out of my remaining college classes (I was a journalism major and never completed that degree. Funny the turns life takes). Yet, I acted on the belief that this was part of God's intention for my life, even though its fullness was hidden from me and would stay hidden from me for decades.
So when Christopher's fiancee Jennifer planned a surprise birthday party for him on Sunday, it occurred to everyone we finally had an opportunity for a family photo, as Sarah and Lucas were in town. The day was mild, so after dinner, I went for a walk, reflecting and reveling in the old neighborhood, so full of fabulous memories.
I thought through the years; I pondered the challenges ahead. Despite the fear and sometimes high medical drama that accompanied some of those pregnancies and C/sections, I never regretted following what God had placed in my heart. And I certainly don't regret that now. Here is the result of that faith. May God show each of you the path where you must walk, and may you have the courage and fortitude to take each step.
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