Lost Time, Stolen Joy, Borrowed Trouble

Ray Montagne and I are kindred spirits.  You know, “Worry, worry, worry, worry, worry; Worry just will not seem to leave my mind alone.”

I found out I was pregnant again when Owen was 8 months old.  I worried.  What would happen?  How would I survive this curveball?  Would the boys resent me, the baby?  Worry.

At the 20 week ultrasound we found out we were having a girl.  I worried.  How will I survive puberty?  (I remember my thirteen-year-old self—I have plenty to dread.)  Worry.

Then, the ultrasound technician called for the radiologist.  Said some measurements weren’t quite right.  I worried.  What will he say when he comes in the room?  What is the matter with this girl who I now want more fiercely than I ever could have imagined?  Worry.

Our baby girl’s head measurements aren’t right.  Her brain might not be developing appropriately.  We’ll have a follow up.  I worried.  Will she be okay?  Will she live?  Will she be disabled?  Worry.

Many follow-ups, all the same.  Something is off with the head.  Not sure what it is.  Could be nothing, don’t worry.  I worried.  Worry, worry, worry, worry, worry, worry…

Final follow up.  36 weeks pregnant.  Little girl is too little.  Only 4 pounds, 2 ounces.  Ma’am have you heard of IUGR?  Are you delivering at INOVA Fairfax, they have a great NICU?  I worried.  Oh, how I worried.

Four days later I was in the hospital as Anna Kate was making her hasty arrival, 3 weeks early.  The heart rate monitor stopped beeping.   Did a more invasive monitor and discovered her heart was stopping with every contraction.  No time to worry.  Anna Kate arrived.  She didn’t cry and so I worried.

She was perfect.  All 6 pounds, 3 ounces of her was perfect.  Even her beautiful round head.  All that worry for nothing.

A week later a little scratch by her eye.  Contrary to my nature, I didn’t worry.

The scratch didn’t go away.  Someone in passing mentioned that their daughter had had a hemangioma “just like that” when she was a baby.  I googled hemangiomas.  I worried.

Referred to a pediatric ophthalmologist who decided to closely monitor her eye for several months.  The hemangioma could grow behind her eye and impair her vision.  I worried.  What if she’s blind?  What if she has to have surgery?  Worry.

A year later she’s discharged from ophthalmology with a clean bill of health and perfect eye sight.  All that worry for nothing.

The same day, qualification for early intervention services due to significant gross motor skill delays.  I worried.  What had I done wrong?  Is something physically wrong with her?  Why didn’t I catch this sooner?  Worry.

Two weeks later my amazing girl pulled out all the stops.  Showed off every trick she knew and then some.  She had progressed from the motor skills of a 9 month old to those of an 11 month old in two weeks.  All that worry for nothing.

Lost time, stolen joy, borrowed troubles.  A work in progress.  I’m learning.  Slowly.  Thankful that I’m being taught this tough lesson in the form of the sweetest baby girl.  And grateful, so grateful, that she is being proven time and again, despite my lack of faith, to be a miracle.  More than I ever hoped for and certainly a blessing more than I deserve.

And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little faith?  -Matthew 6:30


stephanie said...

Great post Beth! Thanks

Susie Phillips said...

Beautiful story, Beth. She is perfect - Anna Kate is FEARFULLY AND WONDERFULLY MADE. She is another God's Girl - Your princess and priceless.