It’s tragic sometimes ~ only when people go, do you realise how much they meant. That’s a really sad thought. But it happened to me today.
Today, I found out that the doctor who delivered both my babies had passed away. I struggled with this when I found out. I cried for what she had been to me and really, we only ever had conversations during mandatory ultrasounds and pregnancy check-ups but I’ll always have her close for what she meant to me from 13 March 2009.
I knew I was pregnant and I was one of four people on the planet who knew my secret. I had no idea where I would have my baby. I had no idea where to book myself in for an ultrasound and check-up. I had no idea I was supposed to be taking vitamins! I didn’t even know how far along I was exactly ~ I just knew I was pregnant. From there, I was walking into the unknown.
I couldn’t even summon up the courage to make the appointment. Having to deal with being pregnant, and everything that’s attached to being a “church girl”, unmarried and pregnant, having to make an appointment just meant facing another mountain. It meant that it was real. Until then, I had nothing to confirm that inside me, my Noah was being formed and shaped. I couldn’t see him from the outside so at times when I wanted to ignore the reality of what was actually happening to me and the massive amount of drama I was about to cause for everyone in my life, I could tune out. Making an appointment meant admitting my shortfall. It meant facing the consequence of my actions and accepting my plunge into motherhood.
The only stipulation I made was that I wanted it to be a female doctor. Matt called the switchboard at the hospital closest to us. (Bless his heart, he’s always been the one to step up when I just couldn’t fathom it. Love him.) He asked if he could make an appointment with one of the doctors for a pre-natal check-up. The lady on the switchboard said that she didn’t think we would get an appointment for at least a month but she put us through anyway. On the other side of the phone, the receptionist told us that she had a cancellation for 13 March and she could fit us in. We booked and I had two weeks to prepare myself.
It’s here that looking back, I begin to see God’s hand guiding me when I felt He was the furthest away. I had pushed Him so far out of my life, I didn’t even think He cared because I’d failed Him so greatly. I landed a doctor, RANDOMLY or not so randomly, who loved Jesus. Out of all the doctors in the hospital, I got her.
On 13 March 2009, my first real ante-natal scan and check-up, I met this lady who was the first person to tell me, to my face, that God doesn’t make mistakes. Every single birth is miraculous. Every baby is a blessing. She didn’t know my story (she never did know my story, I never got to tell her) and she didn’t know what I was walking through BUT she was a voice of calm in my life. She was my voice of reassurance. I think it was my eight month check-up, I was walking out and she gave me a hug, held me at arm’s length and said to me “I just wanted to tell you that I see you. And more than I see you, Jesus sees you. Noah is coming, and you can’t do anything about that (she always was really straight forward! HA HA) but we’re a team. I might deliver him to you on this earth, but Noah really is a delivery from the Saviour. God chose you to be his mother, not for any other time, but for right now. Never forget that.” That changed my life.
Thank you for being one of the many miracles on my journey. Thank you for never asking me any questions but listening to your heart, offering me words and shoulders and hugs when you could feel I was wilting. Considering the timing of our meeting and the role you played in my life I never doubt how intimately Jesus is involved in my life. Even today.
Me: A guilt-ridden, shame-soaked girl, struggling to keep her head up.
You: A messenger from my Father, sent to intercept my life for His divine purpose at a time when I felt like I didn’t really matter, to anyone. You’re the reason that I began to realise that it’s not about how I see myself, but more about how Jesus sees me.
Never doubt the people who cross your path ~ some of them might just give you reason to believe that Jesus sees you and is there, camping with you in the trenches of your life when you think He’s left you to fight it out on your own.
Here’s to you, Dr Jean Sharpe ~ captain of my encouragement team.