The Report (2)

The remainder of my pregnancy went very normally. However, I was in a constant state of panic. At first it seemed to simply be "new mommy jitters," but brief moments of panic began to turn to days of worrying, trips to the doctor's office out of "concern," and constantly anticipating the worst. I was now living with and being controlled by a spirit of fear that continued to grow out of control. As a woman who knows the word of God, I knew that I had every weapon I needed to combat and defeat fear, yet as the days passed, I continued to make excuses for my new companion. I chalked my spirit of fear up to me being a concerned and attentive mother. Therefore, fear also became pride. It was April 6, 2009. I had finished my last week of work the week before, and was at home preparing the house for the arrival of the baby. My dearest friend was over helping me to clean everything, once again, so that it was all just perfect. The baby wasn't due for another two and a half weeks, but this morning things felt different. I was busy cleaning and putting things away and the house was nearing perfection, but I kept having what I thought to be non-alarming Braxton Hicks contractions. It was around noontime that I realized that my Braxton Hicks contractions sure were coming rather frequently and regularly. I began to time them using an app on my iphone. A few more hours passed and my contraction log revealed that I had been having very regular contractions that were four minutes apart for several hours. My friend suggested we at least call the doctor's nurse to get her input. I, reluctantly, called the nurse who suggested that I come in to be examined right away. Although my bags were packed and the baby's diaper bag was ready to go, I didn't feel the need to take anything with me. I believed this trip to the doctor's office to be a big waste of time. On the way, I called my husband to let him know that I wouldn't be home when he got off work because I was at the doctor's office. I insisted he stay at work, but he insisted on meeting me there. The doctor who was on call called me back to be examined. I could feel fear as it gripped my throat almost closed and made my whole body feel like a wet rag. The doctor took one look at me and said, "If a woman has to ask me if she is in labor, then she isn't, but I'll examine you anyway." This examination took all of a few seconds and he followed his last statement with, "You are in labor and you should go right now across the street and check into the hospital. I will call and let them know you are on your way and will be by to check on you after you get settled in." Again, things became a big blur. I should have been experiencing so much joy. I know that some amount of anxiousness and uncertainty are expected for any expecting mother, but especially a first time mother. However, what I was feeling was more than nerves. Fear had followed me to this day, and I had not used the weapons I knew I possessed to defeat him. My flesh held onto fear. My mind enjoyed his company. It was my spirit who quietly whispered the truth: "God did not give me a spirit of fear, but of love, peace, and a sound mind." Again, my flesh spoke louder. Again, as my flesh took control, my spirit took a backseat. The next ten hours went far from smoothly. Although I can't recall most of that time period, I do remember the moments when I was greatly afraid. My baby was in distress more than once. His heart tones kept dropping, and right near the end his heart tone was lost completely a time or two. I remember the crowd of nurses rushing in to poke and prod to get his heart beating again. I remember this state of panic I was in, alert enough to know that things weren't going as planned, but not alert enough to effectively ask why and hear an answer. I could hear my mother praying out loud on one side of me and I could see my dearest friend on the other as she wiped tears away from my face. The last thing I remember hearing was her saying to me, "God has not brought you and this baby this far to leave the two of you alone now." Immediately, for a split second, I was able to connect with my spirit again, and I found comfort and peace in this. Minutes later, at 1:53 a.m. on April 7, 2009, Tucker Davis Smith was born. This moment was joyous. It may have even been the last joyous moment I experienced for quite some time. Tucker was tiny. He weighed only five pounds and nine ounces. However, he seemed to be doing perfectly. This was what I had been waiting for for so long. I had the perfect husband, the perfect job, the perfect house, the perfect family car, and now, I had the perfect baby. I needed this baby to meet these unspoken expectations I already had. I needed the world to see our family completed perfectly. I needed the world to see that our plans had unfolded perfectly. I needed to check this off of my "to do" list and move forward.