Print Issue: October 17, 2002

A Baby That Comes Unexpectedly Tests Faith

By Suzanne Haugh, Commentary

"Was it worth the journey?" I asked myself. "It," actually, is an 8 1/2-pound, 21-inch "she" I know now as Erin, our ordinary miracle.

News of her presence in my womb last fall came as an emotional jolt soon after a move I, my husband and two children made out of Georgia to a much smaller, older house in a new city to simplify life and to be close to my husband's family.

Amid boxes of household items without a home, I felt boxed in mentally by my new environment. Without cherished friendships and my former part-time job to define me beyond my roles as wife and stay-at-home mom (which is by far the most challenging and rewarding job I've ever had), I was experiencing an identity crisis. News that I was pregnant added another layer of complexity to the equation.

Since we already had a beautiful daughter and a son who had just learned what it was to sleep in, there was the added bewilderment of some when confiding that our third child was unplanned. "There are ways to fix that," one person had remarked. How much harder it must be for women experiencing an unplanned pregnancy without the support of a spouse and family, I thought.

At my monthly doctor's visits I was confronted with the question of what type of contraception I would want to use following the baby's birth. My husband and I have practiced Natural Family Planning since about the time we were married 10 years ago. Through NFP we have discovered the amazing design of the female body that allows one to attempt or to postpone conception with discipline and not much more than a thermometer. We have realized also our direct participation and responsibility in God's creation of a child through the intimacy afforded marriage.

But at 36 I became fearful that one "slip" during a confusing move had led to this pregnancy. Perhaps we needed to look into something more permanent so we could move beyond the child-bearing season of our marriage to focus on other matters - our existing children, church ministries, my career. Suddenly words like "tubes tied" and "vasectomy" came up in conversations with others as they asked if this child would be our last. It sounded so easy and convenient. I hesitated in my response and confession that my husband and I had practiced NFP.

Through the witness of others and events in my own life, I have become a believer in divine providence, that God works through people and daily living to affect his grand plan, if only we are open to the sometimes unexpected twists and turns. I had seen it evidenced in my own parents' two later-in-life pregnancies that resulted in younger sisters who have added immensely to the lives of my parents and their four older siblings. And while for a time my husband and I struggled to justify the possibility of ending our fertility as a couple, we finally concluded, still with some anxiety, that we could not let our own fears interrupt what God has in store for our marriage and family. We renewed our commitment to NFP and our confidence that, for us, it answers our desire to plan our family while still allowing God's hand to touch our lives.

During this crisis of faith I had scouted out one of the area's eucharistic adoration chapels. Weekly at 6:30 a.m. through my quiet tears before the Blessed Sacrament I still asked Jesus "why?" and "why now?" The reply I continued to hear was "just wait." At times I could. Other times, in anger and feeling overwhelmed at what I was being called to, I could grasp only onto a faith that was being tested during a time I was being emptied.

And so I waited, often buoyed by others' comments. My then 5-year-old daughter, upon hearing that she would have a new sister or brother, matter-of-factly stated that we would have to name her Dorothy. "It means a gift from God," she explained. And then there were strangers that I often met while walking in the park close to our home. "Way to go, Mom," one woman affirmed, and a middle-aged father, with a spring in his step, said he would pray for me when I told him I was past my due date.

Feeling heavy with child, my husband and I waited for a delivery room to open up so I could be induced. Finally we headed to the hospital where we were confronted with a few scares as we watched the heart rate lower of the mysterious baby boy or girl - we didn't know - who struggled at times during the labor.

Then she arrived, quietly, but followed by startled cries. "It's a girl," proclaimed the doctor, who had kept vigil by monitors at the nurses station. Two days later, new worries emerged and Erin was transferred from one hospital to another for a special X-ray of her digestive system. My heart melted as two women wheeled Erin out of my hospital room for a ride in the "baby buggy" ambulance. As I waited for my husband to pull up in front of the hospital so we could follow, I wondered, "Was it worth the journey?" Had she been worth the wait and now the worry?

"Yes," I answered without hesitating and surprised by my willingness to write off the months of watching my waistline expand, wondering if I'd have anything left of an hourglass figure following the pregnancy. Fortunately Erin's medical crisis has passed and we have welcomed her home.

I can't pinpoint when it actually happened, when my inner turmoil turned into joy for this new little life. My pregnancy had been about me - my own sacrifices, inconveniences and pains. Erin's birth was about a sacrifice melded with a spontaneous and mysterious embrace of love. Our so-called "slip" months earlier had been more than that; God had whispered to my womb. Even amid my reluctance to listen, a life grew that has transformed my faith.

Suzanne Haugh has contributed to The Georgia Bulletin since 1998.