I’ve had several dreams over the last few weeks where I have given birth all alone in the middle of the night, right at my bedside. They all end well and I hate waking up because then the baby is back in my belly, not up on my shoulder.
I spent a lot of time analyzing all the details of the dreams, fixating on all the images and sensations, trying to determine if this was wishful thinking or a touch of the prophetic. After two very sudden and unexpected c-sections, I’m scheduled to be strapped back down to that cold table in the ER in just a couple weeks. I am mostly at peace with this. Mostly.
I thought I’d share a prayer I caught myself scribbling this week after one of these dreams. I figure all pregnant women are wrestling with some hope or worry or fear and many of them, like me, forget to pray about it. It’s not particularly eloquent, but I was struck by how much of it I need to pray every day, pregnant or not.
I have not given my heart to you — I still store it all up like an idea you’ll laugh at. Like it’s something you would never do.
But you are God and I am not. I am a woman, great with child, wondering at all the chaos and mystery you’ve plunged me into. Wondering how I’ve kept these other two alive so long, how in the world I will give enough to another. And then there’s you — the Limitless.
So I give you this thought, this hidden wondering. All of it’s danger and improbability. I give you my body and my baby and ask you to carry it. Please give me peace. Help me to trust you. Hold my hands so that they are so full of you they cannot grasp at all of the what ifs. Protect me from idolizing control. Guard my heart from the love of expertise.
I trust you.
I trust you.
I believe that you love me, you love my children. I believe that you made our bodies, our lives for your glory. I believe that you will reveal yourself through our lives and bodies.
I do not know what you will do, but I know it will be good.
Guide my thoughts.
Guide my affection.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.