Rejoicing through the pain

Glenn and I had longed to have another baby for so long. Our daughter cried and prayed for a sibling for months on end. We were so grateful to find out in February that we were expecting Baby #2! What a blessing and an answer to prayer. Despite the extreme nausea, the constant throwing up morning, noon, and night, I pressed on, knowing the joy of a new little one in October.



By the end of March, I started having major issues with my ankle. Like, the kind of issues that prevent you from walking and earn you a couple visits to the ER. Little did I know that I was about to have a repeat of one of the worst things that I have ever been through in my life. A little condition called pyodermagangranosum. Having an immune disease since I was seventeen, I have often experienced rare conditions that affect .001% of the population. Those kinds of things tend to find me. Anyways, I developed this huge sore on the side of my right ankle, which actually prevented me from being able to walk, put weight on my foot for long periods of time, and ultimately took away my ability to work (as a full time teacher). I was placed on short term disability and told to rest. I guess a picture can speak a thousand words...



Dealing with the pain in my ankle at times was excruciating, but I like to think that I have a high tolerance for pain. When I was 16, I had thirteen of those suckers on my legs all at the same time. So, I tried to reassure myself that I could most certainly deal with the pain of only one. The sore eventually became so filled with fluid, I was able to aspirate it and relieve some of the pressure. While it healed, another sore developed below it, and I got to repeat the lovely process.



Was I mad at God for letting me got through this again, only this time pregnant? You bet! I started questioning His goodness in my life. Questioning if God even loved me; questioning whether or not He was really for me. Countless people had prayed for me for healing, and it just didn't happen. The sore didn't go away, and I had to go through the hideous process of it growing, popping, then finally healing 6 weeks later. BUT, the baby in my "belly" told a different story. The baby said, "I'm here and God is good. You prayed for me, and I'm here. God heard you. He loves you. He knows you. He is for you." There was a deep rejoicing in my womb, and it wasn't coming from me. It was coming from my unborn child.