Ok, so there is much more to this story than just a name and a date, and I don't think I would be honoring God if I didn't tell the whole thing. It's a good story too, if you're into low lows and high highs, and freak-out moments followed by complete peace...and throw up...yeah, sorry about that part.
Pregnancy with Cedar wasn't fun; they call it Hypermesis Gravidarum, but I call it, "when do I get to die?" You may think I am being dramatic, and that's ok. You wouldn't be the first to tell me that, and I still love you. So the scene is Lisbon. Enter our cute apartment and find me lying in bed. Not moving. This was me most days from 7-20 weeks. Other than 5ish days, there was lots of puking, dehydration, and weight loss paired with no eating/drinking, and rarely being able to stand. At first we thought I had some crazy Portuguese virus (I just pictured a little virus walking around yelling non-sense), but after realizing these were my pregnancy symptoms, we decided not to tell family about the baby, just in case. We had recently lost a sweet babe, and we didn't want everyone to go through that again. We prayed and prayed and hoped the symptoms would disappear and that the baby would be healthy. Did I mention there's no medicine or treatment for HG or any kind of severe nausea in Portugal? Well, unless I count my super tan, 5 foot doctor who was trying to channel a mafia supermodel (do those exist?) with stilettos and piles of gold jewelry, grabbing my skin and yelling at me to, "Stop losing weight! Eat food! And no throwing up!" It was good advice; I just wasn't teachable, I guess. Then I threw up.
Fast forward to 30ish weeks and we now live in Mozambique. My symptoms have subsided enough to where I can get out of bed, but I am still extremely nauseated and having a hard time keeping food down. Our new South African doctor, after laughing out loud at the sight of me and asking if I swallowed a gum ball, tells us that our sweet boy is behind on his growth by 6 weeks and that we should be prepared that something is developmentally wrong with him. (For those who don't know much about South Africa, you can stop imagining a bush doctor in a hut. This was an amazing hospital with top of the line equipement.) I was carrying small, but that wasn't what we were expecting to hear. As soon as we got to our car, we told the Lord we weren't owning that report and that we trusted him to work a miracle. And we kept praying that everyday until our next appointment when the doctor said Cedar was only one week behind. ONE!
But, the best part? It's all God taught me during the hardest days. I often worried I was killing our baby, but God brought peace, even showed me visions of Cedar in adulthood. When I thought I couldn't stand to lie in bed sick for another moment, Jesus told me to pray for those dealing with terminal illness. On days when the blessing of pregnancy felt more like a curse, the Holy Spirit led me to pray for the wombs of those desiring a baby. He opened my eyes. He always does when I let him. All that to say, thank you Jesus for our sweet Cedar and thank you for teaching me more about your character and love for people.
To be continued...click here for part 2!