Monday, February 22, 2010

Two Years Ago...

Two years ago today, I had what I refer to as a dark night of the soul. My baby had been due 10 days previous and I anticipated much the same as what had happened with Zane. With Zane, at 9 days post-dates, I went to the hospital, was given cervidil, sent home and came back in labour. Although I was really hoping for an early baby, this is what I was expecting. For most of my pregnancy, I expected to have my new baby 10 days late. I wasn't thrilled about this, just realistic.
At 37 weeks, I had 10 hrs of regular contractions. We hurriedly packed our bags, finalized names, made our phone calls, and went to bed only to have the contractions stop. Frustration does not do justice what I was feeling. But babies come when they come, so I continued to wait. And wait and wait and wait some more.

Finally, the day came. We went to the hospital, saw the same OB with Zane, but this time he told me to come back tomorrow to be induced. Right there in triage, I broke down and cried. I absolutely, positively did NOT want to wait another day. I did NOT want to be induced. In my very pregnant state, I was convinced that I would either have a c-section or be pregnant forever. Yes, I know...I wasn't exactly rational. But right then, the crushing disappointment of having my plans changed was overwhelming me.

Somehow, I managed to pull myself together, enough to get out to the van. Steve went to pay parking only to come back to find me sobbing. My poor husband didn't know what to do. He drove home with me sobbing the whole time, him peeking glances at me, trying to figure out what to do with his overly-emotional wife. After putting Zane to bed, we tried to go to bed early, but my brain would not shut down. I was wrestling with God.

For most of that night, I stayed awake. Is God good? Does He really care? Does He have good plans for me? I tossed and turned all night, struggling with my fears and disappointment. I can't even remember exactly how resolution came, but by morning I had peace. Several close friends and family were praying for me and I was able to go into the hospital with a joyful heart and a great mug of tea. Incidentally, the travel mug I brought with me read: I can handle any crisis. I have kids. Fitting, don't you think?

Several hours later, I came home with a beautiful little boy and the answer to my questions. God is good. I know this deep in my heart now. I don't know this because of my years spent in church, my hours spent pouring over my Bible, or the many stories I have heard of God's goodness. I know that God is good because I experienced both the deep questioning and the answer in return. Right now, I'm questioning God again. My question deals with a different part of God's character. Is God just? Does God act in the face of injustice? Some may find the answer obvious and I could give you the "right" answer backed up with scriptural and anecdotal evidence. But my heart still searches, still asks, often at inconvenient times.

I'm writing about two years ago to remind myself. God answers those deep hard heart questions. He doesn't ignore them or scold me for asking. Unfortunately, this time of questioning is taking longer than I would like, but I know that eventually I will emerge with that intimate personal knowledge of God, just as I did two years ago. My baby boy was named Kian Tobias. Steve picked his first name, but I picked his second name. Tobias means "God is good". So when I call him by his full name, I am reminded of that dark night and then the bright dawn of Kian's birth.

As I was pondering these thoughts, a writer friend of mine posted something along the same lines. You can read her beautiful prose here. If you don't know the story, or want to read it again, you can read Kian's birth story here. Thanks for "listening". :)

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