I Don’t Like Surprises

I have never ever liked surprises…not any surprise of any kind…at all. In 22 years of marriage Cowboy has tried three times to surprise me. The first time he came home from work early and said he was whisking me away for the weekend. I had a meltdown in the car. The second time he called me about an hour before he came home, saying nothing more than “pack a bag.” I had a mini-meltdown prior to his arrival. The third time he gave me nine days to absorb and prepare. He told me he’d learned a few things over the years. 

Keeping this in mind, imagine my surprise at a totally new revelation…me…the one who doesn’t like surprises…at 42 years of age…with three nearly grown children…PREGNANT?  GASP!  Now imagine the ensuing meltdown after realization struck.  It wasn’t pretty.

The first niggling thought hit me on Friday afternoon, March 18th.  I spent the afternoon with my nephew Grant, who is four, while my sister Nikki (who is expecting in July) taught a theatre class for our local homeschoolers.  When Grant and I returned from our excursion, Nikki and I sat talking for a moment about how she was feeling. She commented repeatedly about how quickly her belly was expanding. I put my arm around her shoulders in that big-sister way and said, “Sweetie, we both may have been born small in stature, but our pregnancies always make us big as boats…” and before I could finish voicing my thought, I felt the color drain from my face. Immediately my inward struggle began “Am I pregnant?… Me? ….I can’t be pregnant…can I?…Really, Lord…?…NO!…this can’t be happening…wait…I don’t even LIKE surprises!”  I suddenly felt very queasy. 

That night Lindsay, Lily, my mother, and I went to dinner and a high school play with my aunt Marjorie. I was with my family; I had looked forward to that night; I should have been enjoying it…but I was gloomy and miserable, and I was trying with all of my might to act normal and not show any signs of distress. The night is a blur…you’d have to ask them how it went.

The next day, Brian, his mother, and I drove to Lexington, Kentucky, to pick up Emma from her spring break internship.  I could not carry a conversation to save my soul. I was lost in thought, begging God, hoping my suspicions were wrong, and pushing down that growing feeling of nausea.

On Sunday following morning church services, I sat at the lunch table with my pregnant sister and our friend Carrie. The conversation quickly turned to pregnancy, of course. I was caught between the urge to bawl my eyes out and flee.

That evening, Cowboy looked at me and said “what is up with you?  Are you sick?  Are you upset about something? You’ve been acting strange for days.”  I could only stare back at him.  He continued, “Do we need to go somewhere and talk?”  I will never forget the look on his face when I said “Ummm…maybe…I don’t know for sure…I think I might have some news for you that could quite possibly bring a HUGE life-changing experience around November or so.” At his shrug, shake of head, and the look of “I’m-completely-confused-by-women,” I whispered “I…think…I…might…be…” and I put my hand on my belly.  His glance shifted to my deliberately-placed hand, and when his eyes returned to mine, I was somewhat amused by the wave of realization that I watched slowly roll over him.  There he stood, wide-eyed and speechless. Then he laughed, “YOU? The one who doesn’t like surprises…? Well, SURPRISE HONEY!”

On Monday I decided I had to know for sure, so I trekked to our local CVS and bought a pregnancy test.  Still in complete denial, I figured I had just wasted a perfectly good $10 bill, but to my horror the next morning, that little plus sign appeared.  I slowly descended the stairs to tell Cowboy the news.  Hands shaking, I held up the stick for him to see, and immediately incoherent drivel began tumbling out of his mouth, “What’s this mean?…The lighting in here is terrible…Do I see what I think I see?…Why are you shaking…?”

Yes.  Positive.  Pregnant.  Parents over 40 with three children half-way out of the nest, and there we stood…staring at the little pink plus sign that without uttering a single word told us definitively we would soon be starting ALL over.

I closed myself in my bedroom that Tuesday, March 22nd, and I cried.  I prayed for wisdom, guidance, and most of all DESIRE for the growing baby inside me.  “Lord, I need desire for this child…please give me the desire to be a new mother again!”  I sent crazy hormonal texts to Cowboy…. I can’t DO this! … What is God THINKING?  …  Can I DO this? … WHY????!!!! …  How long do you think we can keep this a secret? … Let’s not tell until June…maybe July… We’re good parents, right? …  This is a miracle, right? 

After about 50 of those messages, I received ONE in return: “We may think we have life all mapped out, but it’s not about us, it’s about God’s plan. It’s all about reconciliation. I love you.” 

I wanted to clutch my hands around his neck, squeeze and shake until his eyes popped out…but instead I sent one final message: “Is THAT supposed to make me feel BETTER?!”

From that moment, there was no end to the odd little conversations that swirled around me.  Had everyone always talked about babies and pregnancy as much as they were now?  What was WRONG with these people?!

For example, that Tuesday night, mere hours after my pregnancy was confirmed, we went to dinner with our good friends, Bruce and Ann.  Cowboy asked if I was up for it.  “It will be good for me,” I said, “take my mind off of this for a while.” No such luck. Bruce just HAD to share the story about a friend who, several years ago, was surprised by his wife’s pregnancy…one they had determined would NEVER happen…they had taken deliberate measures to ensure it wouldn’t. Bruce and Ann laughed whole-heartedly as he related the story. Brian and I just sat stunned.

On Wednesday I saw my chiropractor friend Dr. Julie, who had recently been in contact with another 40-something friend who’d just found out she was pregnant.  “She, like you, has a 20-year-old and a 16-year-old…can you IMAGINE?!” I stood there speechless as the thought ‘Er…ummm…uh…well…NO…honestly, I CAN’T imagine…and by the way, can I get her number….?’ raced through my head.  In the end, all I could utter was a simple “Wow.”

At the dinner table that evening, out of the clear blue sky, Lindsay asked “Mom, what exactly is post-partum depression?”  Okay, God…if THIS is the way you bring me around to DESIRE, you need to try a different approach…seriously…

By Friday I was so far into the denial stage that I had convinced myself something else was dreadfully wrong. I was SURE it must be some kind of life-threatening cancer which caused that dumb pregnancy test to show a false positive. Yes, that MUST be it…I needed to talk to Susan, my nurse friend. As I related my symptoms to Susan and told her about the pregnancy test (denial CLEARLY filling my soul), I saw a look of sympathy cross her face. She cocked her head to the side and gently said, “Honey, you’re pregnant.” I stood stunned. “No, no, no Sue…you aren’t hearing me…I CAN’T be pregnant. I can’t. Something else is horribly wrong.” Another sympathetic (or was that a ‘how-can-you-be-so-stupid?’) look, “No. Sandy. Listen to me. You’re pregnant.” Then she wrapped her arms around me tight, cried with me, prayed for me, and assured me it was okay to feel angry or mad or sad or hurt or whatever I felt…it would all come in due time…God’s timing is perfect. 

On Saturday, March 26th, we had a family luncheon with that gargantuan group of descendants named “Bane.”  Sixty-seven aunts, uncles & cousins gathered at MCL Cafeteria.  Among them all, there was ONE baby present. Baby Bentley. That precious, smiling, six-month-old wonder baby, who in his short lifetime, has already overcome a myriad of challenges. I held him, fed him his lunch, snuggled with him, and the entire time kept thinking “oh wow…I don’t think I can DO this!”  Brian took him from me just as a cousin looked over and said “Does that give you any ideas, guys?”  Another walked up and said “Whoa…did you guys forget to tell us something?!”  It was all in jest, of course, and I half-heartedly laughed, but the entire time I kept thinking “If ONLY you people KNEW!” 

Another Sunday rolled around, and during lunch, my dear friend Carrie and I were playing with toddler Luke.  She shot off the smart-alleck remark “It’s not too late for you and Brother Brian to have another one, you know!”  She laughed. I squirmed.

On Monday, the 28th I saw my massage therapist.  While she was cranking away on my sore shoulder, she said “Sandy, you spend so much time taking care of everyone else…tell me what you ever do for YOU when you have the time.” I nearly cried… TIME? WHAT TIME?  DON’T YOU KNOW I’M STARTING ALL OVER AGAIN?!  I simply answered “I don’t really know…I guess I’ll have to think on that,” then I followed up with an un-voiced prayer…. “Desire, dear Lord, please give me DESIRE!” 

On Tuesday, the 29th, we saw Bruce & Ann again. Ann said “Can you believe your babies will be all grown up soon?  What will you DO when you have an empty nest?!” I simply shrugged my shoulders and said “Oh…I have a feeling Brian and I will always be surrounded by kids.”  

Desire, Lord…Desire….I know I’m selfish…I admit it…but remember, I don’t like surprises!

Sunday, April 3rd. Beautiful sunny day. I sat soaking up the sun in my lawn chair, book in hand. Cowboy walked up behind me, wrapped his right arm around my neck, and placed his left hand on my belly. “I love both of you,” he whispered, then he kissed my cheek and walked away. As joyful tears filled my eyes, the weight of my guilt was lifted, and I felt an odd feeling wash over me.  “What IS this…?” I wondered, “Joy…?  Love…?  Happiness…?” Yes, all of the above, and maybe a just a tiny hint of desire. “Oh Lord, I am so humbled by your gifts…thank you!” 

I am richly blessed, I know this for a fact. I’m beginning to come around.  Maybe this surprise won’t turn out to be so bad after all!