Sunday, November 4, 2012

Learning to Let Go

It's just before 7:00 on Sunday morning. For the first time this season, the sun is rising before me. I was woken by Leila, who seems to sense the time change better than any of us; she has been going full steam since about 5:45. As usual, Will sleeps soundly next to me as I stir. His biggest complaint about me is that I hate to be the only one awake in the morning. Once I'm up, I'm up and that means he should be too. I subtly creep up next to him, wrap my arms around him, squeeze, sigh heavily and wiggle. Shortly after this routine begins, he asks me what time it is and when I respond with an hour that's too early for his liking, he groans. "I didn't mean to wake you", I'll say, although we both know me well enough to know otherwise. This is the way our mornings usually begin. Today, I decided to be the good wife and move out to the couch before I began to write.

When I'm alone with my thoughts, they tend to be focused on my pregnancy, on Leila and her birth in just a few short months. I don't try to change that, though it sometimes leads to more heartache than I anticipated. This morning, I thought a lot about the day she'll be born. Will I continue with my plan of a scheduled c-section and hope that it allows her to survive for a while? Will I turn the day over to God and wait for her to come on her own and risk losing her in the process? What will she look like? Will I be scared? Will I be excited? What will she wear? How will the boys react to her? What if she is born still, like so many are? How will I control my emotions long enough to enjoy our time with her? I let myself ask these questions, reel over them, change my mind about them. I'm also learning that although I may make a decision, the blink of an eye could take my choice away. I cannot expect that the day of her birth will go just as I would like. I have to allow myself to be flexible and understanding of the Lord's plan, and let go of control.

Yesterday, Will and I were talking about football and my lack of ability to understand the game. I told him that I didn't grow up watching it, and he seemed shocked. "Your dad didn't make you sit on his lap and watch the games with him?" I told him no, we went to football parties with lots of other kids and they would send us off to play so they could watch, uninterrupted. He responded, "If I had a daughter, we would watch football together all the time"... and then he caught himself. "I hope she's born on a Sunday so we can watch football together, even if it's just for a minute".

This experience, much like football, I fear I will never be able to wrap my mind around. What I can do, on the other hand, is try to enjoy it as we ride it out. There will be disappointment, loss and pain but if I let go of the fear, there will also be so much love and joy.

Each day I carry Leila is a day closer to "Goodbye", but it's also a day closer to "Hello", and although that's something I may never understand, I will pray for the strength to accept.


  1. You amaze me, mama! Thank you for sharing your thoughts! I'm here if you need anything!

  2. You are so awesome. Im sitting here with stephen reading this and crying tears for I am so lucky to even know U let alone to call U friend. I will always look up to U and strive to be that kind of amazing too. xoxoxoxoxoxo

  3. This was so personal. It was not just a peak through a window into your life... it was like crawling in through a window left open. Your words are just so raw and pure and honest.

    God Bless You.