In college my senior thesis compared Latin American politics to soccer. The parallels were obvious to me. I’ve often been asked to sum up what this pregnancy is comparable to and often times I struggled to find the parallel. There is no comparison. It is its own thing. To find language to describe it didn’t exist in my head until today. In complete stream of consciousness, here are the reflections on my pregnancy.
Reflections of a roller coaster ride. The ride is coming to an end. I can see the station where we disembark. You know that moment when the ride is ending and the brakes are hit just before you enter back into the station. It’s nearly whip lash. You are well aware the ride is nearly over. Oh sure. A new track awaits and is just around the corner with its own upside down, loop di loops, and its own journey. One that will be amazing and scary and fun and some will wish they could ride it and others will be so grateful they remained on solid ground. But for now this ride is ending. This ride. This was the big kahuna. The one only a choice few are allowed on. It was the ride where as you are cresting toward that top big hill full of anticipation you simultaneously have that pit in your stomach. The this.is.it moment. The one that seals your fate that you are indeed on the ride for better or worse. The lap belt reminds me I can’t get off for the ride is already in motion. And just like that the ride stops. It’s stuck just at the top of that first hill which should have been easy and normal. And all the fear and doubt and worry and panic are alive and real. You don’t know if you will get to get off. You just know time has stopped and you are at the top looking down on the world praying for something. Is it forward motion? Is it the ability to disembark? You can see people on the ground. They are of course hoping All will be well. But they aren’t in the ride with you. There isn’t much for them to do but they hope and pray. And then the ride is somehow moving again and ever so fast you are plunging down that great big massive hill. Picking up speed. Praying the safety bars will keep you grounded to the ride. Ah. You made it down that hill. That feels like sweet relief but the ride continues on. Through all the curves, the loops, the ups and downs. There’s no time to think on that moment: Is this fun?, Is this joyful?, Would I get back in line again? You are surviving on Adrenaline, both the prayer and hope you will get back to the station. Every bend brings a new surprise, every loop proves that the bars that were designed to keep you safe do indeed work and are stronger and more comfy than they looked when you were on top that first hill stuck on the track. It feels like a solo ride but that was far from true. Every seat on the roller coaster was filled and as you pull into the station you see so many people by the gates welcoming those cars back from the run, eager to catch the arrival with cameras and cheers. The operator acknowledges, “I hope you enjoyed your ride.” Did I??? The highs. They were so sweet. Cherished in a way that cannot ever be duplicated. Those pit dropping turns and being upside down. I don’t know. Surely that part wasn’t fun. Scary. Nauseating. Dreadful. Lots of screaming. Definite crocodile tears. So much worry that I wouldn’t fall off the ride. But now I see them for what they were. It was just part of the track necessary to get to those sweet spots. Those moments that said life is ok. I’m not sure I’d ride that ride again, but I feel victorious because we made it to the end. I disembark. The sun is shining. I know it doesn’t mean the world is alright. For that ride reminded me of all the reality that comes with getting on the ride in the first place. And yet here I go to stand in line for the next ride. The hills and valleys look bigger, more turns and more loops are part of this ride and yet I’m ready to get on. I think……
I love the song Do It Again, by Elevation Worship,
I’ve seen You move, You move the mountains
And I believe, I’ll see You do it again
You made a way, where there was no way
And I believe, I’ll see You do it again
My God has been faithful, is continuing to be faithful, and will always be faithful. <3
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You have SO got this! I have faith that by faith God has gotten you through this, your faith has gotten you through this, and I don’t know if I know anyone else with a larger support team. This past 9 months has been heart wrenching and at the same time beautiful and exciting. I know this is just my perspective from the outside but I have so much love and respect for you. Many prayers have been said for you and your family. Now it’s time for the next step. All children are different and each have their own personality. You have been forewarned of health problems that you didn’t get with your other babies but you’ve got this. Life will never be the same but it never is when you bring another child into the family. It’s okay. You and Aaron have a village behind you. Anything I can do please let me know.
Such sweet thoughts. I don’t know how we would have endured without you and this community being the hands and feet of Jesus <3
Great analogy! I am happy for you that THIS ride is nearly over and am praying that all is well moving forward.