After Shock

I'd like to say that once I had that mountaintop experience, feeling God's message and the power He instilled within me so clearly, that it carried me through til delivery (and beyond). Unfortunately, though, I'm only human. I've always felt like I play this game with God of understanding and awareness, then taking my own will back. Even though my will is often fraught with doubt, fear, insecurity, disillusionment, and confusion, I still want to go back there and dabble with it. Think that I must know better.

So here I was, coming off this big high from the retreat, but within days I was back into indecision and fear. I knew that I had a choice. That Jim would understand termination. In fact, after my aha moments of the weekend, I'd had to talk *him* into keeping the baby. In many ways, I still feel as though he was just playing "devils' advocate" so that I didn't feel any pressure from him to go through with it, but in that first week after the retreat, I was definitely the one that said, "This is God's will made from our love. We can't kill it."

And then I'd have a bad week. I'd decided that I needed to quit smoking. In the past, I'd easily quit when I'd first found out I was pregnant with Ian and Mariah (taking it back up eventually with both) but this time felt forced. The pregnancy was still often a fearful thought for me; to then be urged into giving up my "last crutch", it wasn't an easy undertaking. However, I knew it was the best thing I could do to ensure that the pregnancy was healthy. I can still remember that (hopeful) last cigarette.

It was the Monday after my Sunday high. Kids and husband gone, I'd decided I'd have my last cig in blissful solitude, sitting in the hottub with a cup of coffee on a gloriously sunny (but chilly) January morn. Raced my naked butt out our masterbathroom door, the rich scent of coffee wafting behind me, cig in hand and jumped quickly into the steaming water. Only to find that the water, steaming against a chilly air, was less than 90 degrees. That's not too hot in January against your 98.6 degree body. My temperature of choice in the winter is a steamy 102.

Shock. Damn it! The electric was out on the hot tub. Within moments my body was shivering. Yet I was so determined for my image of solitude, that I wouldn't give it up. I sunk deeper into the water, just my chin and smoking fingers of my right hand peeking above the surface. Fingers beginning to numb, my lips shaking, I sucked away my (intended) last ciggie in "glorious solitude".

Goes to show ya how determined I am for my own way. Funny, that.

Later that day, in the car on the way to an AA meeting later and once again after, I'd had cravings, but not so bad that I'd had to light up. I could easily pass it off as habit. That's where I usually smoked. It's just normal associations. Car = smoke.

However, later I travelled to the grocery store to prepare for a late birthday meal for Jim. We'd not celebrated that weekend because of the retreat, so I had the intention to create a special evening for him. Complete with his favorite dinner and well-thought out gifts (that I'd not thought out prior to that afternoon). I wanted him to know how greatly I appreciated his support and love. While waiting in the check-out lane, I was met with a beligerant, screaming (tired) toddler. Just as adorable as she could be, but mad as hell. Watching in trepidation, I thought, Oh God.....I can't do that again! Furthermore, and more importantly, a very strong thought: I didn't WANT to. I felt compassion for the mom, trying to converse my understanding of her tiredness, embarrassment and frustration through my gaze, but moreso, I had a very intense sense of "Better you than me!"

The more my skin crawled in the screaming and the thought of being in that very same position within a year, I REALLY needed a cigarette. At the same time, I beat myself up, knowing that I really should quit, should use the motivation of pregnancy to help me quit, needed to give up spending all that money on another addictive drug, hated to be feel guilty with any part of my life anymore, needing to hide the smoking from my kids. Knew that it would affect my pregnancy. Then thought, if God really wanted me to have this child, that He'd also keep it from harm while I obstinately held onto that last addiction. And felt guilty for that, too.

But I couldn't handle it....I gave in, grabbing a pack from the shelf in line, and bursting into it with a great fury on the way home in the car. Giving myself forgiveness because I was able to acknowledge the amount of stress I was under (which was a new skill), I puffed away til I got home, running through my mind what kind of help I'd need to quit this time. Acupuncture? Hypnosis? Some ear thing I'd heard about from my internist? I wasn't sure, but was able to acknowledge needing acute help since I wasn't internally motivated to quit.

The rest of that day was spent in a rat race trying to complete my picture of "special" for Jim - which I never could entirely fulfill. I was feeling far from God, far from my 12-step program, and generally far from serenity as I ran the guinea pig's wheel round and round, feeling my efforts weren't good enough and that I didn't have much time left. Add to that frenzied emotional turmoil a son who was anxious to have over a handful of friends. My adamant "No" was a shock to him and myself. I could feel the stress of the day building. Whether hormonal or after shock of reeling so high, I could do nothing more than sink to my knees in tears. What a weak tit! Then sneak outside around the side of the house to have yet another smoke. Once again, needing to forgive myself - after two full cigarettes of beating myself up. I realized I needed to give myself a BREAK! I run around nutty, trying to push myself so hard to be "perfect", undermining what I might be feeling, so that I can do more for others. I couldn't see that it was a tremendous task to put together what I'd had in mind in ONE day. I didn't give myself the allowance of going through one helluva week - full of a myraid of emotions; the contradiction of shock, panic and pure joy to name a few.

What the hell had I been learning up til now?!

I was a basketcase.....and we wanted to have a BABY?!

Thinking of that, I was still so very scared. I knew in my heart that God would carry me through, that things would be different, but heck...I knew that wouldn't erase all the hard stuff. Those tantrums. The long nights. The tiredness. The need to work counterintuitively on a daily basis. Like salmon swimming upstream. I just wasn't sure all the time that we should do this.

I marched forward, though, and later that week went to my OB/GYN to confirm the pregnancy. Though she had identified the gestational age a bit younger than I'd anticipated, everything looked fine. We even saw a small beating heart under sonogram. Twinges of love, guilt, sadness, and excitement intermixed within me then, as I watched that small blip beating on the screen. I looked down at my still flat belly covered in jelly, thinking I'd never be this thin again. (sigh) I could kiss that meth weight goodbye forever.

In private, one of my husband's friends, an ostetrician, told me that I could take a pill that would abort the pregnancy up to 7 weeks gestation. I was shocked - I thought it was just a few days past a missed menstrual cycle. Going online later to research it, I understood that there'd be heavy bleeding and cramping, but that it could happen within the quiet of our home with Jim at my side. However, the more I read of this RU-486 pill, for the first time since becoming pregnant, I became horribly nauseaus, even to the point of feeling as though I might faint. I hurriedly switched off the screen in angst, dropping to the floor with my head between my knees. I felt sure that I was so attune to the Holy Spirit right now, that it was a strong message to me to quit looking into killing this fetus. I had power beyond my wildest imagination if I only leaned on Him; I had only to remember my weekend, standing in the pulpit to affirm that.

But in the same breath, knowing in my gut that this was VERY MUCH in His plan for whatever reason, I'd begin to feel more fearful for the next hurdle. What IF the baby is "damaged" in some way? What if I, given my age and who knows WHAT I'd done in a year and a half of meth, delivered a special needs baby? For some reason, I could imagine that scenario well because I used to work in the field. Of course God would think I could handle that. Yet I felt that would be the last straw - I just couldn't handle the time and energy a special needs child would require. I'd have to terminate -- yet, how would that decision at that time be any less of a thwarting of His will? How can I live THAT decision down any easier than the selfish reasoning of not wanting a baby altogether?

I just wanted all my bases covered. I wanted to fully research all my options.

I visited Planned Parenthood next. In a way, it felt like wasted time because I'd almost fully come to the conclusion that we were going through with this pregnancy. 99% of the time, I felt I was being led by the Holy Spirit. To just trust. But I still needed to talk openly to someone about options. She told me, "God doesn't make mistakes! You may feel unable to handle it - but when does He ever hand us large tasks that we feel ready for??" Yet she did, without preamble, objectively lay out the options. And recommended against RU-486. Although yes, you could do it within the quiet of your home, she said it could take anywhere from a half hour to 8 hours. With no pain medicine. You are on your own. And it's not pretty.

She told me about amniocentesis and CVS. CVS could be done as easly as 10 weeks old, with results by 12 weeks. (I made an appointment that afternoon.) She also gave me recommendations of facilities that perform abortions if I chose that option.

I walked out feeling assured I was doing the right thing, and well versed on what to expect and where to go if I should need to make a different decision further along.

My parents, when I told them, were incredulous. Thought we were crazy to think about having a child right now. Though my parents had no knowledge of the full reason for my recovery, they knew that Jim and I were on an uphill climb at that point and shouldn't be thinking of adding insult to injury. I could tell that she wanted to be able to keep quiet about her opinion, but her anxiety for me, for the two of us, radiated through the telephone lines. All of my reassurances that it would force us into making radical changes fast didn't seem to alleviate those concerns. I still got a strong sense of doom from her.

So, moving forward, I was up and down the rollercoaster. Excited on many levels and scared for all of us on others. It was a true test for me of "Letting Go and Letting God".
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Update: Shortly after this, I did go to my internists recommendation to quit smoking. It's a place in St. Louis called, Leslie-Cam Smoking Cessation clinic, that used Auricular Therapy -- or an ear zap -- to cure the desire to smoke. www.lc-stopsmoking.com/lesliecam.html I highly recommend it. Zapped me once and cured me forever. I don't think it was more than 75 bucks. I never looked back - not one craving. I've been smoke free now for 4 years, and I can't tell you how proud I am of that accomplishment! To be free - forevermore - of that smelly, expensive habit that only serves to take months off your life and add wrinkles to your face -- hurray! Run, don't walk to an auricular therapy clinic near you if you are still under the deathgrip of nicotine.