52 weeks ago, I was taking a hot bubble bath in the middle of the night. My mom knocked on the door, and informed me that my OB had called. I was going to be induced (at my request, even after all the effort I had gone through to go into labor naturally) the next morning at 7 am. I yelled okay, acted fine... sank down to my ears in the water, wrapped my arms around my beautiful, rounded belly.... and I sobbed. I tried so hard to stop, but the tears just kept flowing. I knew it was right and necessary, but I was so scared. I wasn't ready. I wanted more time.
I dried off and examined myself in the mirror. I had always loved the beautiful curve of a pregnant woman's body, but somehow seeing myself in such a sacred role was overwhelming. I had gotten there in a very un-sacred way. Why was I entrusted with this perfect little life? Why was I chosen to make such a huge decision, at the risk of breaking my own soul apart?
I tried to memorize the shape of my swollen belly, even finding beauty in the stretch marks curving across my skin, and willed myself to remember how each movement felt from the tiny life inside me. I went upstairs, prayed and begged God for a release, and tried to fall asleep.
I thought of never-ending pain. I imagined a hollow ache. I imagined coming home with empty arms and feeling like a piece of me was missing. As I lay in agony, still begging my Heavenly Father for another way, I saw two faces in my mind. A beautiful couple, so ready to be parents. I could almost feel the joy they were about to experience. I began to anticipate their excitement and gratitude. I realized that although I would be aching, their emptiness would end.