Well isn't this fitting. I just dragged myself out of bed at 0430, sure that I was supposed to get up and spend some time with the Lord this morning...something I have done scarcely lately. But sleepy eyed and coffee in hand, I was unsure what I was supposed to be doing! I prayed, journaled a little, and got my bible out, though I was unsure of what I should be reading. I prayed specifically for God to give me clarity. And isn't it hilarious that after the clarity was given, 10 minutes later, I am just now realizing that what He gave me was clarity. Let me explain...
I will resume my telling of the "Gabriel Story" right after this, but I need you to understand what has just transpired in my little world. As I explained in the beginning, I was "spiritually called" to start this blog. For those of you who don't habla or don't believe, I felt a strong urgency and overwhelming desire to blog. And this, I know for sure, was from God.
I was referred to a Christian adoption website, www.showhope.org (Mary Beth and Steven Curtis Chapman's site) by my In-Laws. When I went to the site, I found an adoption conference being held in Nashville, TN. So I copied the address and pasted it in a facebook message to my sister Amanda, since I thought she might live nearby. Meanwhile, I started having this burning desire to write a blog and, of course, thought it was ridiculous that GOD would be "calling" me to blog!! Really? I must be mistaken, sounds a little out there.
A couple days after I facebooked Amanda, she called me, on a Sunday, to tell me that she lives a FEW MILES AWAY from the church that would be holding the adoption conference. She is also one of the most tech-savvy people that I know, so I seized the opportunity to reveal to her my calling to start a blog. And she told me about blogspot. Hence what you are reading. Though, let me be clear when I say that I started this blog STILL not knowing why in the world I was supposed to start it.
A week later, I went to my friend Jessie's house for a farewell for one of our Marine Corps wife friends that would be moving soon. It was a small group of us, all women, and the conversation wound up on the topic of birthing babies.
Now, let me interject by saying that I have a strict policy about not discussing my birthing story with any woman who is pregnant or may become pregnant anytime soon! Sounds like a disclaimer! ;) But I truly don't want to taint or scare anyone with the gory details of what was the most traumatic experience of my life to date. Take this as a "proceed with caution" if you fit into the aforementioned category!
Surrounded by these women comparing epidurals and laboring pains, I suddenly, and nearly immediately, began getting a migraine. I mean, I have never had one come on so fast and so strong. I had to get out of there and NOW! So I scooped up my Gabe and all of his belongings and drove the .7 mile home squinting through stabs and jolts of intensity behind my eyes. I made it home and took Gabe into his room and locked us both inside (he's a toddler and locks are the only thing that will keep him in!). He proceeded to play all around me, with what I am most certain were the loudest toys he owns, as I lay dying on his floor. But as suddenly as it came on, it backed off after my husband came home and relieved me of duty (and taking my migraine meds, of course). I rested through the night and was good as new the next morning, left only to think: what in the world was that?
I surmised, though denied, that the topic of conversation and my stress related to the topic is what caused my reaction. Logical, but I was having a hard time believing it b/c to this point I was convinced that I had processed every bit of my experience in a healthy way. Not sure why I felt I had since there was scarce journaling, no counseling, no grieving, and only little bits of therapeutic talk between me and my husband. After all, he has the visual pain of seeing me barely alive on that surgical table. He has scars too.
I decided later that day that I should seek professional therapy and process through what was obviously some post-traumatic stress of sorts. I just didn't know where to start to find a professional that I would be comfortable with baring my heart and soul to. To meet me, you would think that I am extroverted. I'm outgoing and cheerful and motivated most of the time. But my make-up is straight introvert. I gain energy from being alone, being in a crowd drains me completely. And telling people what is hurting inside of me is a very difficult, embarrassing and almost impossible thing for me to do, even with the people I love most and am closest to in this world.
When I got online to blog a couple days later, I started writing about my birth story. Not sure why but it made sense. And it wasn't until I posted that entry that I realized God's intentions of using a public forum to not only provide therapy to me, but also to glorify Himself. You see, while my story is tragic and scary and hurtful, it is a testament to the God I serve. It was His plan all along and I can't wait to tell you the rest of the story!
So this morning, 10 minutes after I journaled a prayer asking God for clarity, He revealed that at 0430 each morning I should be praying and then blogging, which will have a two-fold benefit: time of communion with Him, and time for myself to heal through my scars. But the most important outcome being that all of His wonder and mighty works, done in just my little life, will be recorded for you to read! (Of course, my thick head didn't realize that He had given me the clarity I'd just asked for...until I started typing this post...typical).
That's what I love about God, ask....and you shall receive, with His intention.
(and what do ya know, it's 0753 and the baby has slept long enough for me to finish this entry!)
