Unexpected Pregnancy and God's Sovereignty: "Sometimes, Pregnancy Stinks"

One of my friends sent me this article by Gina Loehr, "The Passion of Pregnancy," back in November and it's probably what made me resolve to start writing about this topic of unexpected pregnancy and God's sovereignty. I have no other way to express my reaction to it than to say reading it was such a fresh breath of air! I mean, read this opening paragraph:

Guilty and ashamed, but seeking solace, I have admitted the truth: I hate being pregnant. Now, in the throes of my sixth round of this freely chosen misery, I have decided to speak openly. We religious types rarely, if ever, publicly address the real burden that pregnancy puts on women. Instead, we jump ahead to the value of the life she carries. Unless we find ways to acknowledge this aspect of the experience of women, our defense of the truth that every human life has value risks ringing false.

I didn't even have difficult pregnancies, physically speaking, relative to the difficult things some of my friends experienced. I didn't particularly enjoy being pregnant, but I was so caught up in the spiritual and emotional trials of being pregnant that I didn't dwell much on the physical discomforts. It certainly wasn't an enjoyable experience, however, and I can relate to much of what this author says about the experience.

I remember listening to my friend Darcee describe this article and when she related the following sentiment, I was so struck by this truth.

Here alone—during pregnancy—do intense nausea, constant fatigue, digestive chaos, and hormonally induced depression fail to earn the title “illness.”

But we just act like it's normal and we should just deal with it! Making this realization has definitely made a difference in how I interact with and pray for the pregnant women I know. I suppose I glossed over the hard physical realities of pregnancy before, even another friend's HG pregnancy! but I've resolved to no longer do so. I particularly want to be aware of and sympathetic towards Postpartum Depression because it so blindsided me, but I have yet to work out what that means. (Ha! I actually wrote that sentence in regards to how I could care for others experiencing PPD, but as soon as I wrote it I  realized again that I still don't even know what it means for me.)

And I suppose I should offer the caveat that I deeply respect the resolve to be grateful for a pregnancy and refuse to complain such a blessing. I really do. Another of my friends prayed for years to be pregnant and, once she was, made every effort to rejoice despite her discomfort - she felt that she couldn't complain about the very thing she had begged to experience. I just don't think the extremes are usually so sharp, or at least need to be so sharp.

Returning to the article, I particularly resonated with the following quote, even though, as I've just tried to express, my focus was on the spiritual/emotional difficulty of my pregnancies not the physical:

Women immersed in a religious landscape frequently feel pressure to act happy and bear their maternal miseries with pious silence. Lamenting pregnancy seems to border on blasphemy. We who sincerely desire to build up the culture of life, who seek to welcome children as the supreme blessing of marriage, we who worship God as the source of all life and declare ourselves to be his servants, we are not in the business of inviting pregnant women to cry on our shoulders. We don’t even acknowledge that it’s normal to feel sad. We’re too busy rejoicing—rightly—over the precious gift of new life.

This is exactly why I felt so alone. I didn't go looking for company, but that's probably even because I knew I would find it, but find it in circles that I didn't want influencing me at a time where I already felt so vulnerable and discontent.

In the National Organization of Women and the architects of the supposed War on Women, the painfully pregnant have a listening ear. Although the conversation is rarely about the ills of pregnancy, NOW and WOW openly admit that women don’t always want to be pregnant. They offer an honest recognition that pregnancy is not every woman’s dream job. Mixed in amongst a slew of lies about the status of unborn life, the feminists offer a reassuring dose of reality. Sometimes, pregnancy stinks.

Loehr expresses exactly what I wish I could have expressed four years ago. We have somewhat different reasons for arriving at the same conclusion, but I have read and reread her article many times as an encouragement.

I love her application and recommendation for interacting with the world at large, particularly those facing unexpected pregnancies outside the Church. But I'd love to read and article (perhaps someday write it?) making an application and recommendation for interacting with those inside the Church as well.

[http://www.firstthings.com/web-exclusives/2014/10/the-passion-of-pregnancy]

Unexpected Pregnancy and God's Sovereignty: Crying

For many non-Christians, an unexpected pregnancy can be met with more honesty. It is acknowledged as unexpected and acknowledged as a difficult thing to now face. Often, too difficult a thing to face.

But many Christians, who (rightly!) see children as a blessing from God. As such, it seems that they often aren't honest with themselves or with others about the completely unexpected new reality they now face as parents. This was certainly my reality. I was so confident in the fact that the new baby growing inside me was a wonderful new creation given to me by God that I really struggled to let myself acknowledge that it was a gift I was completely unprepared to accept. Or accept with immediate joy and thanksgiving and contentment. So I just cried. I cried more throughout my first pregnancy than I had ever cried in my entire life up until that point. It was very rare for a day to go by with out tears.

I have a very vivid memory of sitting in the car with my friend, Hilary, in the parking lot of the school we were both working at. It was pouring down rain, but I was crying about as much as it was raining. I could hardly talk. And she sat there with me and let me cry, despite probably having places to go and things to do (I had, after all, followed her to her car and let myself in as she was trying to leave) and, most of all, despite struggling with trusting God regarding her own fertility. (This deserves its own post, but my three friends who were themselves struggling to get pregnant showed me such great love. I had what they wanted but couldn't have yet and I wasn't grateful. And they just let me cry to them and made me feel loved and heard.)

At some point, after I announced my pregnancy and then cried for ten minutes, I told her that I didn't know how to tell anyone (especially at the school) because I was afraid of giving a follow up response. What if they asked me if I was excited? (And yes, this is EXACTLY what happened about a hundred million times. I basically lied a lot.) I couldn't articulate how guilty I felt about not being excited, but Hilary told that our mutual friend's sister's response to her latest pregnancy was to cry. And that was just about the most helpful thing anyone ever said to me, all through my pregnancy. I clung desperately to the picture of this woman, who I barely knew, crying over a pregnancy test just as I had wanted to do. At the time I knew almost nothing about her, except that she loved God and that she loved the children that she already had and that she would of course love this new baby too. (I love the fact that this was so obvious to me, even though I'd hardly ever spoken to this woman, and someday I want those things to show through me as well.) If she could be surprised and a bit sad about her unexpected pregnancy, maybe I could be too.

Unexpected Pregnancy and God's Sovereignty: The Intro

Over the past six months I have started to be a bit more open about my deepest and darkest struggle. At first it was just by secret thought - admitting that *this* really was a hard Thing - and then sentence by halting sentence in a few emails and in a few conversations with very safe people. And then another person that wasn't quite so "safe". And now on *the internet*.

It's very difficult for me to be honest or transparent about This Thing in my life because I'm so frightened of saying (or thinking) anything that will hint at a lack of trust in God or lack of love for my son. And yet, silence is toxic. One of the things that made This Thing so difficult was that it was so isolating. I felt like I didn't have anyone to talk to that had a shared experience of an unexpected pregnancy as a Christian.

So I want to start writing about this. I'm certainly afraid of doing so. It's certainly difficult to make myself do so. But I don't really process anything until I write about it and I need to find a way to articulate something, anything, coherent about This Thing. Nothing else has changed my life as much as This Thing, at least not yet, and I need to testify to God's goodness to me. My unexpected pregnancy has become biggest blessing in my life, both because I love Ezra unspeakable amounts and he brings me the greatest joy I've ever known and because I have learned so much about God and about myself through these last five years.