My son has a new sleeping position: cheek on my tummy, forehead on my tummy, backhead on my tummy. He recently discovered the wonder of this tummy as his pillow. (Thanks to not loosing much weight after pregnancy. Ouch.)
Lying in bed straight up, I watch him sleep, his mouth a bit open as I hold his warm hand.
Of so many nights of sleeping this way, there came flashing memories that I vividly recall just last night.
About 2 and half years ago, I was in this similar position, on this same bed praying intensely, asking Jesus to save our baby. I learned that day that I was 5 weeks pregnant but pregnancy was not showing a good sign.
About a blink, I was crying profusely. I lost the baby. I had miscarriage.
After miscarrying, there were still nights in this same position that I grieve silently for losing our first child and so afraid to get pregnant again with the fear of going through that unbearable emotional pain.
Following a simple transition like that in a movie, I saw myself pregnant of 5 months and praying to Jesus to save our baby. Quick cut, I was into this exact position caressing my arching belly and still feeling the sting of an injection.
I had been diagnosed to have AntiPhospholipid AntiBody Syndrome (or they call APAS) in which the immune system mistakenly produces antibodies to certain proteins in the blood and attacks it; this may cause blood clot leading to some fatal tendencies like pre-eclampsia, stroke, and/or pulmonary embolism.
For easy understanding, my OB-gynecologist explained that I have antibodies or more like body soldiers that see the fetus in my womb as alien, they perceive the fetus as enemy and they are launching a war to eliminate it. This was the reason of my miscarriage the first time.
Doctors (OB and immunologist, respectively) did series of work-out to help me go through a successful pregnancy. I was taking aspirin everyday, doing ultrasound with Doppler twice a month, and injecting coagulants like Innohep then later on Heparin once then twice a day. I was thankful hubby was so brave to administer. It was a real life combat we fought hand-in-hand, strengthening our relationship.
Inevitably, I was given no other option but do it myself when he was at work; mustering the courage after a couple of hit-and-miss over the insulin-type syringe.
About 7 months in the same sleeping position, my tummy is bruised and nearly covered in black (literally like the appearance of a black-eye) due to that everyday injections; I continued praying to Jesus while counting my son’s heartbeat. I was advised to do so as part of the fetus monitoring process and was easily paranoid when I temporarily not feel a beat!
And in Jesus’ miracle and with my family’s help, I deliver the baby via caesarian section with no complications.
Last night, all that came in crystal-clear memory like a flashback scene on film vignettes. I tried not to cry but I could not help it. How in this same position I weep, I lost, and now I am experiencing one of greatest happiness of my life—being with my son.
Jesus really has His own way of granting our prayers. Sometimes it is just so hard to see His reasons when we are darkened by heartaches and sadness.