Trial of Joy: chapter 14

I knew that it was completely up to God to get me through this pregnancy.  I was very vocal about my rebellion towards the Word of Faith tenets. I confessed my doubts and fears openly  concerning the outcome of this pregnancy.   During this time the ladies at the church looked to me for counsel now and then.   I felt to be the least of anyone to know how to approach their needs.  I did the best I could and by the grace of God they seemed to be drawn to my counsel.  I, personally, found that they were far more supportive of me than I was to them.  I could not have asked for a better group of ladies for God to bless me with.  I was beginning to see a dim picture God's grace.

              

Here I was in pure emotional agony and to make matters even tougher the pregnancy did not go well.  My first doctor was very concerned about my well being and the well being of the baby.   At ten weeks he sent me to see a specialist in a bigger city because of my thyroid.    Towards my twentieth week he moved out of town and I had to find a new doctor.  I found a doctor who had much experience and who was a believer.  He shared with me that he was going to take this pregnancy very seriously through care and prayer.  Wow! What more could I ask for in a doctor?  One day, after grocery shopping, I came into the kitchen with my first load of groceries from the car; I noticed a message on the answering machine.  It was my doctor.  He said, “I have been up since five am praying for you and the pregnancy.  I have some serious concerns.  I am going to send you to a specialist in Denver.”  I was blessed on one hand that my doctor should be on his knees for me but shell shocked on the other that he was that concerned.  I called him back.  He gave me the number of the specialist who was expecting my call.  I set the date for three days away.  This topped my Ice cream Sunday of anxiety with thick lavish syrup of panic.  I sat on the couch in a daze.  My front door stood open and the trunk of my car was still open too.   This, I later found out, was causing a bit of a stir in the neighborhood.  Knowing my history and being wonderful concerned neighbors, they had noticed that I had not returned to gather the rest of my groceries. Though I did finally take care of my car and the groceries just before they  had decided to "call in the troops".

             

It turned out that my doctor’s concern was the apparent size of my uterus.  The 3D ultra sound administered by the neo-natologist in Denver did not reveal any abnormalities or problems.  Just for the heck of it she took a stab at measuring me from side to side instead of from top to bottom.  Amazingly enough, I measured right this way.  She said that in her thirty years as a MD specializing in high risk pregnancies she had never seen someone measure correctly side to side and not top to bottom. I had to laugh.  She assumed that this phenomenon was due to the fact that the baby was transverse (lying side to side) and that I carried the risk of polyhydramnios (too much amniotic fluid).  The two together had created a unique pregnancy.   She said that everything else looked perfect.  “Whew”…I was relieved  to hear this.

              

Towards the last thirteen weeks of pregnancy, I spent three hours every week at the hospital doing stress tests and ultrasounds.  The baby continued to be transverse which posed its own set of problems for delivery.  The high level of amniotic fluid posed its own set of problems as well.  If my amniotic sac were to break it posed a risk of pinching the umbilical cord shut with the rush of fluid. Certainly, this pregnancy was causing me to cry out to God instead of trusting in my own abilities to control the outcome.  

            

So far I had endured one tubal pregnancy, two normal pregnancies resulting in live births and a full term pregnancy loss and another loss at sixteen weeks.   With no discernable amount of faith or artifice of control, I coped one day at a time.  Slowly but surely, I reacquainted myself with prayer. Not hours of it by any means but just simple honest prayers.  It was a step by step process. 

            

Mentally speaking, I succeeded by simply accepting the fact that I was pregnant and that I could not know the outcome.   The next step was talking to the Lord about my fears.  I never hid my fears from myself or the Lord during this trial of faith.   Rather than hiding these fears in fear of what my feelings would produce, I confessed them and prayed about them.   Regularly, from that point on I mimicked the prayer of Jesus, “Lord, I really would like to have this child be born alive, but not my will but yours be done”.   For awhile this prayer frightened me.  I had to believe what I prayed.  That meant that my will had to yield to the Lord’s will.  But each time I prayed it I felt a little more joy and a little more freedom. Still, I would lay awake at night and fret if I didn’t feel movement for more than a half an hour.  I kept my husband awake on more than one occasion when I would reposition back and forth trying to get the baby to move.  Looking back, it was almost laughable the way I acted. 

            

 The third step was learning what was most important to me.   One day in particular stands out in my mind.  I was in Colorado Springs visiting my parents.  It had been awhile since I or Joshua had seen the Air Force Academy and Alexis had never been there so we decided to go for a trip and we took my parents' neighbor's kids too.  As I was standing in front of that majestic chapel there on that military base, the thought struck me as I stared at my children and the other children playing on the stairs that led up to the big chapel.  Isn't the Lord worth more to me than any child?  What could I say?  Yes, He was! A wave of peace and joy came over me and it lasted for about two minutes and then it was gone.  It gave me reason to hope though. It became my new mantra...even when I didn't always mean it.  "Even if I don't get this child, I will still have you Lord.  I will always have You.  Nothing would separate me from the Love of Christ." It was a  step of faith in the right direction for me.

             

I did other things to help me cope through the pregnancy.  I worked part time at the prison teaching GED skills.  It did wonders to keep my mind off of me and the pregnancy for awhile each day.   I managed to keep my pregnancy hidden from the inmates until I was about five months along and then it was pretty obvious.  At first they teased me but when they understood that it was something I would not speak about  openly, especially with them, they stopped.  My supervisor was wonderful.  He allowed me to work four days a week which meant I had every Friday off.   I used this day in the first months of pregnancy to sleep and get caught up on house work.    

During the last thirteen weeks Friday mornings were spent at the hospital.  First I would go to have an ultra sound that checked amniotic fluid levels, the babies position and obviously for a heartbeat.   Then I would head upstairs to the maternity for a stress test.  Not really sure what that was all about but I did it.   For thirteen weeks I went through the routine.  It became a routine that I learned to enjoy.  I got to know the ladies in radiology pretty well and I knew all of them in the maternity ward which I thought would come in handy. These visits helped me cope quite well and I think my doctor knew that. 

        

Since the baby was still transverse and I carried the risks of poyhydramnios, I was scheduled for a C-section. That day came Friday, March 25.  Because my doctor was not able to perform C-sections, the doctor that had delivered Samuel  was to see me through this delivery as well. Though I had tried all the tricks to get  the baby to turn she refused to flip head down until that morning at the hospital.  I felt a very distinct movement and knew that is what had happened.   So after the doctor made sure that the baby was head down, she told me I no longer needed a C-section.  She was going to pin prick the sac to alleviate the pressure of the fluid and I was prepped for an induction instead.  After placing the epidural in my spine as precautionary measure, a heart monitor was placed on my belly.   It read a wonderful 150 beats a minute causing me and the doctor to breathe easy.  That security soon disappeared as the babies heart rate suddenly fell to 30 beats a minute.  The doctor didn't bat an eye before calling the OR and having me prepped for an emergency C-section.  Within moments I was wheeled quickly to the OR.  Within those moments I prayed again, this time with all my heart, "Lord, it's ok if I don't get this baby....I still have You.  You are all I need".   I meant it that time.     

             

Since the epidural was not doing it's job and I was able to feel each cut she was making, she was forced to give me a stronger medicine through the epidural.  Though my eyes were open, I was not mentally aware of what was happening.   Because my eyes were open, Darren thought that I was awake and aware of what was going on.  He was careful to keep the panic he was feeling restrained.   He was talking me through it which I think was helpful for him but I did not hear a word.  Finally, after it seemed like an eternity had passed for me, I did hear Darren ask me if I could hear that.  I strained with all my might to listen and  I did hear a babies cry.  I felt a wave of relief and then lost consciousness again.  The doctor told me later that it was the most stressful C-sections she had performed. Apparently,  she could not free the baby from the uterus.  She had to cut me horizontally and vertically.   

Her report states, "(Patient) was placed in supine position on the operation table and at left lateral tilt.  Fetal hear tones were verified with redosing of the epidural and noted to be in the 130's...I palpated the uterus and felt that the baby was no longer vertex...I scored the uterus...The baby was found to be back down to transverse, buttocks to maternal left, so she had started to somersault to vertex and just kept on going.  Initially, I was able grab one foot and the other appendage I got was a hand.  I put the hand back.  I grabbed and got the other foot after I had T'd the uterus by about 3 cm.  So far we had got the baby delivered up to the head but could not get the head delivered, I T'd the uterus further.  The head was then delivered."

My husband tells me then that because it took much longer than expected to deliver her, they could not get her to breathe for a stressful amount of time.   I only knew that she was alive and then had lost conciousness again.  What seemed like moments to me was quite some time later as they were unable to wake me in the recovery room for some hours.   I only knew  that I was  holding my precious daughter.  Not only had the Lord given me a child, He had protected me from all the stress of delivery.  Thank you Jesus.

A Time to Heal: chapter 13

Joshua's  leg was cast from the toes up to his hip.   He was bed ridden for about a week.  A week too long for him!  But soon he was up and performing stunts with his crutches and healing well. Meanwhile I continued on in my melancholy demeanor.  I lived my life mostly devoid of strong emotions and faith.  I went through the motions of wife and mom neither enjoying or despising my duties thereof.  Darren  on the other hand, was certain that this was a divine time for us.   I made verbal assent to this fact, trusting that he knew.  But, I was not able to take any steps forward in my own faith.   

Figuring this would be as good as a confirmation  he would get from me, he started a Calvary Chapel, May of 2004.  For him it was an exciting time.  He knew that this is what God had been calling him to all along and now he was finally doing it.  I was there physically through it all but not spiritually.  I showed as much support as I could muster.  I wasn't even able to attend the first meetings which we held in our home on a weekday evening.  I had asked my supervisor to switch me to swing shifts.  I didn't do this on purpose to miss the home meetings but rather my primary purpose was to be home with the kids in the morning because they were on summer vacation.  Missing the meetings was just an added benefit that I secretly enjoyed.  Deep down inside I knew that God had not forsaken me and I had not forsaken Him but I simply had no idea as to where to go next in my walk.   

The churches start up home group grew very quickly and it was time to find our own building.  Darren had finished the paperwork of his personal affiliation with Calvary Chapel so that we could officially call the church a Calvary Chapel.   A local Seventh Day Adventist church was not using their building on Sunday mornings and agreed to rent it out to us for our use.  The arrangement was perfect and Darren and I (to a small but growing degree) were excited to see God work.     

On a personal level, God was going to use something very familiar to begin the process of healing in me.    I sat in the doctor’s office  summer of 2004 and explained to her why I really didn’t want to be pregnant again.  Of course, she knew what I had been through and she agreed.  She wanted to be sure, just for the record, that I wasn’t pregnant and then she could move on with plans.  After waiting the twenty minutes in her office, she walked in with a rather ominous look.   My heart sank.   All I could think was “oh no”.  Over and over in my head.  “Oh no”.   She sat and watched me cry.  What else could she do? 

             

My mind was in complete disarray on the way home.   I was pregnant and there was nothing I would do to change that fact.  I had waited for years at one time in my life to hear the words, “you’re pregnant” and now I dreaded them.  Pure anxiety.  I couldn’t be mad at God; I didn’t have the energy to be mad. 

 

Early in the morning one day, as I stood in my pajamas, arms and head hanging in utter despair, I prayed again, “Lord, if it is your will to take this baby too, please do it now”.    I knew He had heard me.   Needless to say, this was not going to be a happy time for me.

As the pregnancy progressed so did my anxiety.   As a matter of fact, I used my anxiety as an affront to the false doctrines that had recently become odious to me.    Almost as if these teachings were embodied in human form, I struck out at them with the weapons I had at my disposal.  Anxiety, fear and negative confessions were those weapons.  I recognized the fear and anxiety for what they were-human emotions-devoid of power outside of myself. Although, I had almost nonexistent faith, I was newly determined to place God in control of my life rather than my emotions or my words.          



  

Lessons in Control: chapter 12

One day as I was lying in bed, I saw a picture of a wall.   I knew immediately that the wall represented my faith.  The wall was being torn down.   I wondered to myself if the wall was going to be completely torn down.  But as soon as I asked that question, I knew that it had to be completely torn down.   I felt a strong assurance, even a joyful assurance, that the wall would be built back up correctly.  It would be sturdier, thicker, and much more able to withstand the storms of life.  That was all I knew, however.  I made mental assent and could not go any farther in my thinking.  I prayed this one prayer:  “Lord, I am incapable of making it through this.  Do what you will."  That was the last thing I prayed for several weeks.  The first thing that God used to begin to tear down this wall was a skiing trip.

         

I felt that I had been neglecting my kids  just a tad with the traumatic events of the last couple of months and wanted to do something fun.   I wanted to visit a friend.  He was a young man (I'll call him Ted) who had lived with us for nearly a year while doing an internship.  We all grew very fond of him and the kids were excited to see him again.  Since Ted's dad owned a ski shop in Angel fire New Mexico and there was a ski resort nearby, it seemed like the perfect set up.   We loaded up and headed to Angel Fire, New Mexico for a little skiing and fellowship.   We had a good visit.  Funny enough, or maybe not so funny, Ted's family were firm Kenneth Copeland and Kenneth Hagen devotees.   These men were/are the Word of Faith “fathers“.    Honestly, I didn’t even think about that at the time I headed down there, and I am not even sure I knew.  Anyway, we got our skis rent free, thanks to Ted's dad, and hit the mountain.    Joshua headed out by himself since I was fairly confident in his abilities and I stayed with young Alexis to teach her how to ski.   After our first little run down the practice slope a resort ranger skied up to me and asked me if I was Deanna Zent.   She informed me then that my son had been in an accident.  I wondered what stunt he had pulled.  It turned out that he hadn’t been pulling any stunt rather his ski had hit a hole and while he was falling and twisting his ski had failed to release causing a spiral fracture of both the bones in the lower part of his leg.   The nearest hospital was thirty miles away but it was a ninety minute trip over a winding mountain road.  Ted's aunt was very kind and drove Joshua and I to the hospital while I left Alexis with Ted's mother.  For Joshua this was ninety minutes of agony.  I felt so bad for him.  At the hospital we discovered that Joshua would not need surgery or any pins. I offered up a huge, “thank you God” for that.  We had been careful enough while moving him and everything was in the right place for healing.  The one drawback was that they could not fully cast him up due to the potential of dangerous swelling.  He would have to make the trip home with a half caste.  This meant that I would have to take the trip home slow and steady being careful to keep his leg as still as possible.    Since it was too late for us to start the trip home that night we spent the night at Ted's house and hit the road home early the next day.    I stayed up all night with Joshua in order to watch the swelling in his leg.  If the swelling got too bad I had to take him back to the hospital.  Thankfully, it did not swell too much. But essentially I had not slept.  Before heading out the door, Ted's mother, knowing everything we had been through over the last several months stated to me very gently and lovingly “You don’t have to let these bad things happen to you, you know.  The authority is there for you.  Tell the enemy that you’re not going to take it anymore.”   

The comment took me so off guard.  All I could muster was a very sarcastic comment, “I am in good company.  I guess Paul (in the Bible) did not know how to use his God given authority either.”   I knew the moment it came out of my mouth that it was the wrong thing to say. She looked back at me with a very sullen look.  I am sure that I had probably hurt her feelings.  She had been very patient and kind through the whole ordeal and extremely hospitable.  Though wrong,  her comment was meant to help me. I knew I had to repent and for no good reason except to please my flesh I  refused to do so in that moment.  This set the tone for my trip home.  Wonderful as Jesus is, though, all things are used for our good.

             

I had a small car so Joshua had to take up the whole back seat and was positioned in such a way that there was no way he could put a seat belt on and Alexis had to sit in the front seat in her car seat.  Two big no-no‘s for me.   I was in bad frame of mind.  Exhausted, my poor attitude and the fact that my kids were placed poorly in the car sent me down the road in a fowl and angry mood.    About a half hour down the road, completely unexpectedly, my period started.  The pregnancy loss had messed up my cycle.   Of course, I had something set aside for emergencies but my pants and the car seat were fatalities.  I pulled over and stopped.   I looked ahead for traffic and looked behind for traffic.  Nothing was coming but it was the longest, straightest road with literally nothing but flat land for miles.  There was, literally, nothing to hide behind to change my clothes.   Joshua was a little out of it but not enough so to wonder about what was happening.   I told him that I had to change my clothes and please leave it at that with no more questions.  I changed, thankfully, with no traffic around and laid a towel on the seat.   Ok….off again.   The next few hours were calm.  I worked very hard to stay awake.   I had drunk some coffee before leaving the house but it was wearing off quick.   As we neared Pueblo, Colorado, Alexis started screaming.   I asked her what was wrong.  She yelled, “I am gonna throw up!”.  And she did at that.  She projectiled onto the dashboard and all over herself and the car seat.   I took a deep breath while my mood darkened a little bit farther.   I pulled off the interstate in Pueblo and found a gas station.  I unbuckled Alexis, grabbed some dirty clothes from the suitcase and then unbuckled the car seat.  I locked delirious Joshua into the car.   I headed to the bathroom with my two stink bombs in arm. In the bathroom I endured the questioning looks of others while I scrubbed the car seat and my daughter clean with thin paper towel and hand soap.   After a few minutes of this, I surrendered to the fact that my car was going to stink for the rest of the way home. 

            

After reaching the car, I realized that it was lunch time.  I looked at Joshua .  He was to osedated to eat and Alexis obviously wasn’t hungry.  I was definitely not in the mood for food so we headed on.  I had been keeping in contact with Darren on the way home.  He was very sympathetic and a bit worried.   Back onto the interstate.   About half way through Colorado Springs, I gave my folks a call to let them know what had happened.  I had to work very hard to hide  my exhaustion, frustration and anxiety from them. Trying to have a bright and cheerful tone to my voice  I let them know that I was not able to stop and say hi.  They completely understood.   

            

For some reason the traffic between Colorado Springs and Denver was very thick and moving well above the speed limit in both lanes.   I was literally bumper to bumper traffic and I had no choice but to go the 80-85 mph with the flow of traffic.   Actually, it struck me rather odd that this was happening.   I have traveled that road numerous times and had never seen that combination of traffic and speed before.  My anxiety level skyrocketed and my knuckles were white on the steering wheel.   Just before I got to Castle Rock, I happened to look to my left and saw a woman parallel to me in her vehicle.  The look in her eyes and face startled me.  I had no idea what I had done to illicit such a dark look but more than that I was just plain shocked by the malevolence of her glance.   These thoughts of mine took all of a split second when I heard a huge popping noise. It scared me so bad that I swerved but not enough to disturb the flow of traffic.  A large rock  had been thrown into my windshield by the car with the "evil stare" lady in it, creating a baseball size spiral crack.  That was it for me.  I had reached my point.   I experienced the first panic attack of my life while driving 85 mph on the interstate in bumper to bumper traffic.  There was no way I could pull off onto the shoulder of the road. I could not slow down at all.  I began hyperventilating and my vision was quickly fading.  The only thing I could think to do was hang on to the steering wheel and yell , ”JESUS” several times.   Due to His quick answer I was suddenly able to regulate my breathing. I took the first exit I saw.  At first, I didn't realize that I landed in the parking lot of a church.  I sat in the car and cried and shook and prayed.  When I did recognize what was around me I thought about going in to the church and asking for prayer.  Perhaps someone had seen me (and heard me) and had already started to pray cause I didn't long feel the need to leave my car.    Alexis had been screaming since the rock had hit the windshield.   I had blocked out her screams somehow.  They more sounded like screams in the distance.   Finally, after twenty minutes in the parked car, I was able to turn my attention to her.   Though, I was still shaking, I was in shape to calm Alexis and call my husband.  He offered to come get me but I knew that I had to get Joshua home as soon as possible and waiting two more hours wasn’t a good idea.    It suddenly dawned on me that I had not had anything to drink in many hours. I looked in the back seat to find that Joshua’s breathing was steady and peaceful.    We had not stopped to use the bathroom or eat either.   I slowly drove to a nearby gas station, woke my son enough to get a few answers from him, used the bathroom and paid for an ice tea and two soda pops.  Neither of them wanted food.  When I got back to the car I asked Joshua if he was ok with everything that had just happened.  He said he didn’t know what I was talking about.  Too astonished to say anything, I turned in my seat and offered up a silent prayer.   “Lord, I am completely feeling out of control, you’re going to have to get us home”.   I started the car with no confidence in either my ability to drive or in anyone else’s ability around me.  I simply needed to get home and there was no other way.   I looked at the clock and realized by the time we got to Denver it was going to be rush hour. 

             

As I drove in Denver my imagination became acutely aware of how many things could go wrong.  I focused on breathing and staying in my lane.  My muscles were exhausted because of the strength I was expending and had expended on gripping the steering wheel.  Never in my life had I felt so out of control.  After everything so far, there was absolutely no pretense of control left in me.   Rush hour turned out to be a blessing.  Though it took us longer to get home the speed of traffic was rather slow and I was just fine with slow.  On the road home from Denver I could hear the Lord whispering to me over and over, “you are not in control, I am”.   And for the first time in my life I began to believe Him.