Beginning a Family
“At the moment, I’m 36. I thought I would have all of my children by the time I was 30 when I got married at the age of 23.
Ha, I adore adolescence’s excessively certain, arrogant, and self-assured mentality when you believe you can create plans for the future, and they will turn out exactly how you envisioned. After roughly 3.5 years of marriage, my husband and I eagerly began trying for our first child, but after 3.5 long, challenging years of several surgeries, infusions, drugs, and other avenues that assist you in conceiving a kid, we finally discovered we were pregnant at age 30.
My plan to have all of my children by the age of 30 was doomed from the start. A few years later, when we tried for a second time, he arrived considerably sooner—in just under 6 months. We decided to call it quits after having one son and one daughter and being 32 and 34 years old, respectively.
Courtesy of Christina Cassell
The Storm
It was not an easy path after coping with some traumatic occurrences in our extended family, moving with a 3-month-old and a 4-year-old, and essentially beginning our lives over. I was ready to take on a challenging task and prepared to start. Although I battled for a long time with how I looked after giving birth, psychologically, I was still doing okay at this point because I knew that my body had just given birth to a human being, which was an amazing thing. My body didn’t need to get back to normal, and having these babies was worthwhile despite my disheveled appearance, drooping breasts, and stomach bulge.z
Courtesy of Christina Cassell
After having baby #2 for roughly 3.5 years, all of my efforts finally started to pay off. I was thrilled with my muscle tone and weight since I was getting close to having the coveted six-pack abs. Then, what felt like a wrecking ball struck me hard—my husband lost his job, Covid was out of control, and life seemed to be passing me by—until our church played a song during worship service with the lyric “rest on me.”
When a child is so worn out that they want to sleep on mommy’s chest, they will rest all of their weight on her, like I was holding my 3-year-old son at that same time. You need to rely on me like that; I sensed the Lord telling me at that very time. Just rest in my arms and let me bear all of your unexpected and unresolved future actions; don’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.
At the time, I believed that He just wanted me to rely on Him for support while I dealt with my job loss, Covid’s worry, and other unmentionables, but He was actually preparing me for what I would learn that evening. You know, I had been feeling strange, and I believed it was mostly due to utter tiredness in my life, but there was one thing I couldn’t get rid of: the peculiar sensation I only got while pregnant. My chest felt like a tonne of bricks, and I had only ever experienced this under one circumstance, and that circumstance was, of course, when I was pregnant.
I ignored it for a few hours since, among other things, my husband had a successful vasectomy, I only had one functional fallopian tube, and, in general, having children was difficult due to poor viscosity and the requirement for Clomid and Progesterone. I thus understood that I could not be pregnant. I also didn’t want to be. This is why, as it turns out, He was telling me to take a break and get ready for a year that would be sluggish and full of ups and downs. Yes, He sustained me the entire time and was at my side, but my human heart and emotions were still there and put to the test.
Courtesy of Christina Cassell
Third Pregnancy
To be honest and upfront, vanity and vain ambitions were among the main reasons I had trouble becoming pregnant again. I had finally gotten the finest body I had ever had, and I was so close to having six-pack abs and the weight I wanted to be. It wasn’t easy to accept that the following nine months would undo all of my physical progress.
God eventually started to reveal to me how I was worshipping my appearance rather than simply being healthy. But it took some time for my thoughts to change; I had to repeat and ingest this idea every day. I had a hard time connecting with the baby that was growing inside of me, let alone waking up each day to a larger body.
Even though I was aware that everything was part of God’s plan, I couldn’t help but feel outraged, furious, and even depressed over my second pregnancy. You know it when you’ve been there; it’s the liberating moment in a mom’s life. Where your children are mature enough to allow you a moment to breathe, do the dishes or laundry, or even take a shower without having to worry about them.
I was no longer responsible for changing diapers or caring for children who needed everything. I had passed the baby-toddler period and was now at the stage of the young helpers when you can really give them duties to assist you around the home. During the baby-toddler era, they needed everything from you but gave you very little in return. I wasn’t a fan of babies and didn’t want to return.
Not only did I not want to go back, but I was also really eager to move forward. Even though I adored having my children at home with me full-time, my youngest was going to start 5-day Pre-K the next year, which meant mommy could return to work. That may or may not strike a chord with you, but I wanted to get everyone on a schedule for school so I could go back to being a professional. My desire to return to the workforce full-time was always at odds with the fact that I was expecting a second child.
I could only have endured the humiliation and remorse throughout the nine months of my pregnancy with the aid of Jesus. I was aware that it was OK for me to have discomfort, annoyance, and worry, but I also had guilt for caring about something that I was unable to relate to and was even angry about. The fact that I could be carrying this miracle child, who was obviously intended for our life, yet be sad about it, made me wonder what kind of person I was. This guilt consumed my spirit, which could only be relieved by His love.
Pregnancy Complications
We received a couple of unexpected surprises that we weren’t prepared for soon after learning that our surprise baby would be a girl. The nuchal translucency of the infant girl, a sign of Down syndrome, thickened. She was measuring too little, had two renal arteries, and was vulnerable to cardiac problems. Additionally, my placenta was abnormally low and on the verge of being too low (previa placenta), which increased the likelihood that I would go into labor earlier than usual since my body would mistakenly think the head was about to crown.
Despite all that went wrong, we were completely at ease. I was in pain, yet HE remained steadfast. He planned this news, He planned this pregnancy, and His name will be exalted in all things. As you can probably guess, this did not alleviate my feelings regarding my physical appearance, sense of identity loss, or guilt as a mother. But I permitted myself to keep thinking about this arduous and tedious path. I was in pain, yet He remained steadfast.
Courtesy of Christina Cassell
I allowed myself to experience the emotional ups and downs that came with this unexpected pregnancy. We frequently attempt to be tough and build barriers to avoid dealing with pain or feelings of inadequacy. Still, I have learned over the past nine months that it is alright to feel, be shattered, be unhappy, and disapprove of your body—make sure you don’t go through it alone.
The narrative continues: a few weeks later, my placenta had returned to a safe location; my baby girl was still little but GROWING; her heart only exhibited a slight murmur; the renal arteries were no longer a concern; in addition, she now only had a 1:10,000 chance of being disabled. This appointment was very different from the first, so I sat there in shock. I was genuinely unsure of how to handle all the positive news. I wasn’t sure if I should let my air out or hold it at the time.
In just a few more months, I would be giving birth to this miraculous baby girl. Since preeclampsia and hypertension are often treated with delivery, I was induced at 39 weeks since I was experiencing hypertension in my third trimester. We joyfully welcomed our little wonder into the world after delivery. But the delight was short-lived, and soon it was dread and terror.
There seemed to be no end to the emotional obstacles. Our basement flooded a week before Collins was born (just kind of the beginning of the storm), and Collins also experienced weight problems after Collins’s delivery and a lengthy hospital stay. We were finally allowed to leave the hospital on Wednesday night after giving birth on Monday, only to awaken in a panic on Thursday morning with blood pressures close to that of a stroke and a baby who was vomiting. For Collins, the ER, and for Mama, the hospital triage. Hospital readmission due to postpartum preeclampsia
Postnatal Obstacles
We were both being watched, so I was away from the infant girl for a while. When we were eventually reunited, we took this photo. I remained in the hospital until Saturday morning, when they released me home with extremely stringent instructions that fell short of bed rest. I was so grateful to come home and to be able to see my other children. After spending a whole day at home, though, I was able to recognize my crippling anxiety of being 20 minutes away from life or death since my blood pressure was unpredictable and frequently reached alarming heights. In addition, our A/C stopped working, which caused my blood pressure to soar once more. I was again sent home, returned for readmission the next morning, and ended up in triage.
Courtesy of Christina Cassell
My heart was breaking as I was separated from my other children and confined behind what seemed like prison walls. I was also crumbling under the weight of my emotions. One obstacle followed another. But while we relied on family and friends for support, I had to keep reminding myself that God was using the challenges to deepen our faith in Him and let His love show through His people. A hurdle jumper sees a hurdle as a win, whereas the typical individual sees a hurdle as a mountain to climb. I began to see each obstacle we overcame as Jesus’ victory over the circumstance. Preeclampsia was no laughing matter, and it gave me the worst worry imaginable.
The moment the infant entered our life, my mother’s heart warmed. My formerly stone-cold heart and fear of how life would change and what it would seem like were softer. But to be really honest, I was concerned that it wouldn’t be that, that I would gaze at my newborn girl and still feel angry or disconnected. She was and is such a delight to me that I truly couldn’t believe how much love I had for her immediately away. It’s absurd to imagine our family without her now; everything feels complete. However, it’s acceptable if you experienced the same worry and it didn’t go away quickly. There are difficult seasons, uncertain seasons, and upset-worthy seasons in life. It’s crucial that you don’t live in isolation during your season.
Although a lot of my worries about the entire pregnancy and the unanticipated future lessened, I still want my body back in six weeks. I was placed on modified bed rest due to postpartum preeclampsia for about 6 weeks following the birth of my child, which caused me concern about how I would manage to take care of my new kid and my body if I couldn’t move.
Postpartum Body
I was ready to go as soon as my six weeks were up, and I received the all-clear from the medical team to resume my normal activities. But unlike when I was younger, my body didn’t respond to it well. After all, I was regarded as geriatric (maternal age). At this point, 15 weeks after giving birth, I have to fight the revulsion I feel as I gaze at the reflection of my body in the mirror. Why are we this way? I mean, my body just gave birth to a kid, and now I want my pre-pregnancy physique back in just two months? If you’re anything like me, you also experience it. Getting dressed may be frustrating, especially when you compare yourself to friends who either had babies around the same time you did and already look fantastic or even to friends who didn’t, but you like to compare like with like. (I understand; I also partake.)
Courtesy of Christina Cassell
Our environment is challenging, and everyone has high expectations of us. God desires us to be healthy. He wants us to treat our bodies as temples, not cram them with junk food that saps our strength and makes it difficult for us to love our husbands, kids, and friends. He wants us to be active and lead a balanced, healthy life. After all, if we are strong and prepared, we can serve Him successfully.
He does not want us to be fixated on our appearance, abs, need for flawless postpartum bodies or desire to look a specific way. I firmly believe in health and wellness and don’t want to stray from it, but I do want to do it for the right reasons to set a good example for my girls. Is it time yet? No. I continue to fight the daily battle alongside you now and every day. I want you to be able to see inside my life and stories and realize you’re not alone.
Have you ever passed a department store window and seen what was displayed there? You will be blown away if you visit a large metropolis. There are displays of the nicest, most exquisite, lovely, and seemingly ideal people, goods, families, houses, and even pets. You must be deserving of the attention that being presented in such a window would attract. Refrain from peering through the world’s unreachable and, for that matter, wildly impossible windows. Look in my window… Not because I deserve the spotlight (because I don’t), but just to be honest. I want to be really honest with you about how undeserving I am and how He makes me worthy.
How I deal with the issues that moms and women face on a daily basis. While my life isn’t window worthy, we all find value in openness, whether it be in the form of uplifting tidbits, ‘oh crap’ mom moments, or ‘wow’ God moments. Windows are transparent, which is odd because most people’s “displays” of their lives are anything but.
Courtesy of Christina Cassell
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