Never

       I’m a fairly superstitious person. I’ve always chalked it up to being from New England.  You can't be a Red Sox fan without a healthy fear of  jinxes…both big and small: upside down horse shoes, black cats, walking under ladders, “calling” a no-hitter when the pitcher is having a golden game, and my personal plague: saying “never."  The very utterance of the word "never" works to ensure that the thing is bound to happen. 

Perhaps the most ironic of my “never” declarations comes from my fear of being a mother.  There is no job for which I feel more ill-equipped and terrified of than that of raising small human beings into decent, God fearing adults. Mothers are 24/7 life or death decision-making executives for 18+ years straight.  This job description doesn’t play to my strengths. I mean I see both sides of every decision. I may take a definitive stance on whether or not I want my appetizer when it's ready or with the others.

      And then….of course…because I said never, I became a mom. Within hours I realized that there is no way to prepare for being a parent. It was far more difficult than I predicted  and yet exceeded any joy I could have imagined. Still, it was terrifying to continually have someone depending on me for their basic needs.  So, I maturely and promptly vowed never to have another child. 

But apparently, jinxes are stronger than birth control and only 25 months later my next baby was born, a beautiful tiny girl with perfect pink lips and striking blue eyes.  A boy and a girl, both healthy and beautiful, I might be overwhelmed but I knew this kind of happy doesn't come around often.  I had everything I never dreamed of and I never planned on having a third.

Yet again, one year later I learned we were (despite all medical explanations) having a third. This was by far the most scary and taxing of my pregnancies.  To be honest, most of it I can’t remember: dehydration, hemorrhaging, constant nausea and lapses in and out of  consciousness.  I learned the hard way I had to depend on others just to survive. And after a complicated and traumatic delivery, I was told that having another child would be a huge risk.  I was not worried, I was happy that this third tiny person was in my arms and I never needed to go through all that again.

  Four years passed and I started to get cocky, all my children were potty trained and out of early intervention.  We didn’t need to lug a stroller or diaper bag everywhere, heck my kids could even buckle their own car seats.  The really insane infant/ toddler stage had passed and both the kids and I had survived.  I even got to sleep through the night on a regular basis. Nope, I was never having another kid.  But I am getting smarter with age and I realized that with my luck I could take no chances.  So, I went to my OB-GYN to have an IUD put in.  As part of the “pre-op” they had to give me a pregnancy test to make sure there was no baby already occupying that space. 

There was.  The doctor came back with the strangest look on her face like she was as shocked as I was that modern medicine is truly no match for fate. I was…I am...having a fourth baby.

  My whole world came crashing down on my head.  I’d already lost my career, my health, my independence once, how could I do it again?  Could I even live through the next nine months?  And as I sat in my long awaited, seemingly huge SUV, after years of squeezing three babies in a sedan, I realized we would once again have no extra seats or room to pack anything other than baby gear.  I began to sob. 

Then a verse sprang into my heart so clearly I had to sit up and think, “Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.”  Maybe the "curse of never" wasn’t fate, or superstition or a cruel joke. None of the things I had said, "never"  to are mere detours or cosmic mistakes, they are the best of me.  So, I think it's about time this "advanced age maternal patient"  trade in my weak superstitions and finally live by faith in a God who loves me, no matter what, who is a better parent than I will ever be, who fills in the gaps when I fall down and fail.  The God for whom nothing is impossible.