Bosom’s and Cankles
I kept repeating…this is good…this is good… trying to convince myself as I sat on the edge of the tub just staring at the stick….it had two pink lines. I know because I kept counting them over and over…one-two, one-two. In an absolute daze, I walked out of the bathroom and into the family room where I sank down into my favorite comfy chair. I was 41, with a 17-year old daughter and a 14-year old son and NOW I was pregnant. Didn’t God get my clearly stated memo? I “told” God that 39 was my cut-off year and besides the specialist’s told us that it was absolutely IMPOSSIBLE for me to conceive so there was no need for birth control. (Note: Don’t ever TELL God what to do…asking is better!)
Let me back up just a bit. Our teenagers are from my previous marriage. When I remarried at 34, my husband Tony had never had children nor been married. Taking on the three of us was definitely a life-style change for him. He loved my children and never once referred to them as his step-children. However, his dream was to also have a child of his own. So, two years into our marriage we reversed my tubaligation. Over the next four years we lost four babies to miscarriage. The doctors said I had way too much scar tissue and would NEVER conceive again…….
We were very sad and emotional, but felt that we had done all we could. We “assumed” that God had closed that door. So when the doctors said I would NEVER, EVER conceive and not to BOTHER with birth control…we BELIEVED them...after all…they know…don’t they?
Why we put our faith in man, I just don’t know…but we did. I like to think that God wanted to show His Glory….when we gave up HE stepped in and obviously pushed my clearly stated memo aside. The absolute minute I looked at the pregnancy test I KNEW I would carry to full-term and I KNEW this child would be a boy. Mother’s just know sometimes…don’t we? It’s a God-thing he puts in us.
To say we were all excited would be putting it mildly, and I LOVED going to the doctor. My doctor’s a very strong Christian and she just laughed when I told her.
She then said, “You know I don’t recommend my patients getting pregnant past the age of 42.”
I replied, “Well, I didn’t know that, but apparently God did.”
Luke was born two months after my 42nd birthday.
God ALWAYS cuts it close. It’s just what He does.
So, you’re probably wondering if there was some bad amongst the good. OH, yes, dear friends it’s my body…my poor, poor sad body. I did not wear my jeans when I left the hospital like other young moms. Nope, I wore stretch pants and a BIG top. My feet grew another size as did my bosom (which by the way, seemed to enter a room way before the rest of me came in!) and the bulk of my “baby” weight just shifted around until it found a comfortable spot to stay. My ankles are now “cankles” (you know, when you can’t tell when your calves end and your ankles begin…it’s a southern word) and my backside? Well, let’s just say that I fit “snug as a bug” in my comfy chair.
And Luke, well he is an absolute joy…God KNEW he would be. When we go places sometimes people will stop me and say, “Is this cute red-headed boy your grandson?” and I just smile with my thinning lips (of course…THOSE didn’t stay plump) and I say, “No, but he’s GRAND to me!”
And as Martha Stewart says… “That’s a Good Thing!”
Note to readers….True story…down to my cankles!
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