A nursery for Clara

Hands shaking, heart racing uncomfortably.

Seth’s parents were at home with our four boys so we could enjoy an “evening out.” Walking with bated trepidity into Fetal Studios I still felt some degree of hope that just perhaps I might finally hear the words, “It’s a girl.”

Our names were called, we entered the ultrasound room towards the back.  I spotted the boy parts well before the technician made her announcement.  I had become pretty good at it.

The walk back to the car was fine…no tears yet.  But that composure proved hopelessly ephemeral as the aching and ugly sobs arrived just moments after closing the door.  What was wrong with me? Was I not worthy to raise a daughter? Who was this Clara we had twice experienced a sacred and  spiritual closeness to? Child number five was to be our very last.  A daughter would now never come.  I was completely and wholly heart broken.

I won’t lie; it took me a few days to recover.  But after many prayers seeking to understand and a choice to have faith that I would love this little boy just as much as the others, I reclaimed the peace that had escaped me since learning we would be a family of five boys.  FIVE!

When the time came, our little Spencer bug could not have been more perfect.  He was love and joy and deliciousness all in one impeccable little package.  And I fell in love immediately.

As we maintained our resolve to be finished, my longing for a girl gradually faded, I thought, turning into acceptance of reality without one. It was going to be okay. I was very much looking forward to never having to deal with the horrors of pregnancy again (I have… issues during my babies’ incubation) and being able to finally see a few hours of daily free time in my future.  In just a few short years, I could go biking or hiking or running in the middle of the day! Or read a novel! Or join an orchestra! Or maybe even start a Masters program!  And I would have granddaughters someday.  Yes, I would be alright.

Less than a year later, just when I was feeling as though life was beginning to feel comfortable again, Seth and I received what we know was unmistakably divine instruction that we were actually not finished.  There was another child who needed to be in our family.

O…kay…?

Did the thought occur to me that maybe this child would be an XX? Of course.  But my heart could simply not take the hope.  We moved forward with our instruction as swiftly as we thought we should.  There was a miscarriage that resulted in a little hurt along the way, but after a few months we learned that number six was viably in our future.

And thus came a repeat visit to a gender detection studio.  This time, however, the hand shaking and heart pulsing was minimal.  I had pretty much accepted and expected to be having boy #6.  Given that this baby was our way of showing Heavenly Father we were willing to do what He asked, despite our fears of what we were taking on, and was in no way a final attempt at conceiving a girl, I felt confident that this would be a non-emotional, merely informative visit.

Seth believed otherwise.

When we got situated in our room that more closely resembled a spa than an ultrasound clinic, I began to concede inside that he was right.

“Are you ready to hear what you are having?” For the technician, that question was as routine and automatic as blinking her eyes.  I suddenly realized, however,  that for me those words were a profound representation of the dreaming, disappointment, hoping, pleading, confusion, and faith that had accompanied the very beating of my heart year after year, child after child.  I adored each of my boys, but that didn’t erase my desire for a daughter.  It couldn’t.  I thought that time and acceptance of God’s plan for my family had eliminated that longing, but it had really just temporarily diminished it.  The room, the image before me, the question…it had all caused a complete reemergence of those very familiar feelings.  And now…Was I ready?

“It’s another boy, isn’t it?”

“No…you’re having a girl!”

“What! Is that a joke?  You’re joking, right?”

“No, really!  It’s a girl!”

The moments after required no words.  Seth had predicted tears.  My insistence against them did not foresee this outcome.

Oh, how they flowed.

Our little Clara was finally on her way. <3

 

I just finished setting up her nursery last week…you know, in case she comes early;).

Sometimes I find myself wandering in there just to gaze at the glitter and prettiness and dream about what it will be like to hold her in my arms.

I don’t get very many moments of reflection and contemplation these days, but when I do she is occupying a great deal of space in my mind.

(This lamp base is one of my favorite details in her nursery. I acquired this piece from my Great Grandmother when she passed away.  I was about 11 years old and have been saving it since then to put in my daughter’s room.)

So also is something that I have learned over the course of the last decade of daughter dreaming.

Sometimes we women tend to look at each other’s circumstances and think of what we may perceive as the injustices that exist between us.  Those perceptions are usually in consort with a range of emotions from jealousy to compassion, from envy to pity.  We wonder why it is that some get to experience what appears to be a perfect family situation.  Fertility in abundance, economic ease, and an intrinsic knack for patient discipline.  We wonder still why others struggle for years to conceive, suffer financial uncertainty, or experience family breakdown due to death or divorce.  Sometimes we feel depressed that we don’t have the life we think we want. Or we feel guilty that we do have exactly the life we’ve always desired while others have far, far less.  I have wondered, for example, if my desire for a girl while I have enjoyed the birth of five beautiful and healthy boys is just about as parsimonious as a mother can be!  And the fact that I have cried and ached over it…am I just the epitome of an ingrate?

In Luke chapter 8 we find two stories of healing that seem to be intertwined with one another involving two very different people with vastly different circumstances: the ruler Jairus, and an unnamed woman with an issue of blood.

When we thoughtfully compare these two miracles we discover that they both contain a time description of twelve years.  The woman has suffered for twelve years, not just from her blood condition but, I imagine, also from extreme loneliness.  Because of her issue of blood, she has likely been secluded due to the Law of Moses.  Did she have a husband?  Was he still with her or did he abandon her for someone with whom he could still have relations, as was common to and accepted by the culture of the day?  Did she have children?  I can only imagine the degree of her suffering.

Then there is Jairus–a man with status, presumably significant wealth, and a family.  An abundance of good things.  Yet he has been experiencing heart break at the potential loss of a precious daughter…who is twelve years old.

For Jairus, the previous twelve years have included the enjoyment and companionship of family life with a sweet daughter. For the unnamed woman these years produced a suffering that few could know or understand.

But the Savior heals BOTH.  He meets the needs of both of his children.  He doesn’t minimize Jairus’s suffering because someone else “has it worse.”  He knows that every aching heart is different–and they all matter to Him.

It is so easy to compare our individual situations and minimize each other’s hurt according to our own experiences, or apply the opposite judgement to our own pain.  But the Savior did not do this.  Every heart, every story matters to Him.

This is perhaps the most important lesson I have learned over these years of longing and acceptance.  I do not believe that my Father in Heaven is hanging the events in my life on a string as a puppet master controlling his marionettes.  For the most part, He has allowed my life to run it’s course as He designed it to according to my agency, the agency of others, the function of my mortal body, and the environment in which I have grown and lived.  Though I have not seen my path clearly at times, He has always known what is to come and has been present with me all along my journey.  As pain and sorrow have come, He has held me, wept with me, and carried me through.  So also has he rejoiced with me in my successes and joys!  Because my story matters to Him.

Now I get to teach my own precious daughter this illuminating truth.

(Another favorite…this gorgeous quilt custom made by a sweet friend, the extremely talented Heather McDonald.)

 

And I cannot wait <3.