I hate the morning. Most people think I am a morning person simply because I smile when I wake up. Just because I am smiling, doesn't mean I like to get going. Especially when I am hungry. Mornings with no munchies are BAD mornings. Well, at 6:30 my alarm went off this morning--I don't think I really needed it, my stomach had been growling for most of the night. I had been doing a 12 hour fast prior to a 3 hour glucose test I needed to have done this morning. What I wanted more than food was water--holy cow how I take that stuff for granted! My mouth was like chalk, and of course the events of my morning routine consist the running of water, standing in water, having water splashed on my face. So not cool. Driving to the hospital for the test, I realized this is the first time I have gone to have blood-work done without moral support. So not only was I up early hungry and thirsty, but I was going to face my least favorite reason to go to the doctor.
Arriving at Bethesda North, I took a deep breath and walked in keeping the mantra "you can do...you are 25" playing like a broken record to try and calm me down. When I walked into the lab waiting area, I immediately spotted another pregnant woman and simply asked, "When are you due?" (it probably sounded more chipper than anticipated on her end) and she simply responded, "July 13". "Congratulations! It's coming up" I added and with her simple smile the conversation was over. I assumed that this meeting was over, done nothing was going to come of these short exchanges.
The phlebotomist called me back to take the first round of blood. That wasn't so bad--one time is enough times. I then had to drink this DISGUSTING chalky drink (gag reflex here) and not long after began feeling extremely nauseated. The good thing about this, is you then receive special treatment and get to go lay on recliners in a dark room and catch some of the zzzz's missed throughout the night. Much to my surprise after the second hour was up and I was rounding home in the third, I had to move from the room I was in to another, where my little pregnant friend was dozing in and out. We always joke with my mom that she walks into a room and there is a flashing neon sign above her head saying, "Tell me your life story". I didn't think I carried this same trait, but today I definitely did.
Sitting, I asked the girl what her name was: Jessica. What are you having? A boy. How exciting! And then the gates opened and the whole story came cascading from the depths of her soul. My little Jessica is pregnant with her second son. He first was born with a chromosonal defect and passed away and hour after her came into this world. That was a year ago. After this, both her and her fiance were tested to see if this could happen again. Nothing is wrong DNA speaking with either party. A few months later, she got pregnant again. She told me how excited she was, how this is all she has ever wanted and she was even more precautious of every choice she made, her only aim to be the perfect decision for the baby. At 18 weeks, she found out again she was having a boy, and again there was a laundry list of complications. He has a different chromosonal defect as well as an enlarged heart and "club" feet. The doctors aren't certain he will walk, and what his quality of life will be. As I looked over at her and watched her with all her might try to keep back the tears, my heart sank. It's amazing how you view the sufferings other people are going through when your heart has gone through suffering too. She continued to speak, and at this point the tears weren't contained. "Why? Why?" she cried "am I having the sick baby when this is all I have wanted and there are people who don't even want their baby and their baby is perfect?" Of course, I was crying with her and I understood and felt the sincerity in her cry. The only thing I shared with her at this point was that I was having a baby girl in August. I felt that Vivi's mission was in this moment using me as an in-between. For a few brief moments I shared with Jessica our situation, and her face changed. I took her hand and told her what has comforted me so much, and what I believe with every being in my body, "We are the honored ones! We want this baby to love and hug and raise--imagine what would happen if someone who didn't want their baby had a baby that isn't "perfect"? But Jessica, I go one step further and say your son is perfect. He is exactly how God created him and he will be the love of your life regardless of what is "wrong" in the world's eyes". And she just looked at me and said, "You have hope don't you?" Actually yes, it's all I have. But I believe in it. I don't know if it was the Spirit moving or Viv's kicking inside me that lead me to ask her if I could pray with her and over her belly. Timidly she said "yes" and once I said "AMEN" she looked me in the eye and tears welled up again in her eyes. As they began sliding down her face she whispered, "I want to have hope again".
I believe each of us has a mission--I know Vivi's is a part of my mission everyday, especially on the days I meet Jessicas. I was thinking about something on Monday (it was Rod and my 1 year anniversary!) A friend of ours told me in January of last year while I saw her for spiritual guidance on a retreat to make sure before anything else the night of our wedding to say the Rosary and ask the Blessed Mother to wrap her loving arms around us and our family. She said to imagine that we were held inside the circle of the Rosary. I thought of this because we did said the Rosary on the way from the reception to the hotel and what a grace I do believe that has played in our relationship and during this time of learning about Viv. I have been graced with the hope and faith and trust in God's plan for Rod and I am for Vivi like Mary did with her family. This is my mission: to live this hope, this faith and this trust everyday. Viv and I, we are a lethal pair on God's Errand :)