The Kamya Chronicles

The Kamya Chronicles: A Love Journey

The Before

Psalm 113: 9

He settles the childless woman in her home as a happy mother of children. Praise the LORD.

For years, I’ve wondered if God heard my prayer – a prayer that almost every little girl has ever had, publicly or privately: the want to be a mother. I knew that timing was an issue. I had school. I had horrible and non-lasting relationships. I had myself trying to find myself in a world of selfish people. I wanted the marriage, career, house, damn the dog, an aquarium, not to mention the 2.3 kids. Eventually, I settled for the thought of just having one.

So I prayed.

Time went by. Weeks. Months. Years even. We move on to the summer of 2009. I met a man, in a situation, who eventually had my heart because I loved his mind. He seemed to have everything – looks, brains, body, the ability to speak, and a zest for life. I asked him, unequivocally, if he would donate his DNA to me to produce a super kid. I had it in my head that I would be the perfect single mother. My mom was the perfect single mother for me for nine years. So obviously, I decided I could do the same.

Then God laughed. Youth definitely is wasted on the young.

Fast forward to June 4th, 2012. I received a great surprise: he proposed. A man that swore off marriage, for various reasons, chose me for a united life adventure. No longer was I going down the single mother path. In fact, I wasn’t even on the mother-ship because I wanted to enjoy being a wife. June 22nd, 2013, I wed my adult man-crush, Jemarius (referred to as “Hubs”), in front of family and friends in Birmingham, AL. It was small, intimate, and personal. Eventually, my want and yearning for a baby returned slowly and powerfully. Many of the Hub’s friends were getting pregnant, and having baby girls – exactly of which I prayed. My big brother was even having a daughter. I had to endure two of my Hub’s coworkers having baby girls. It wasn’t until his third coworker’s wife told me she was expecting that this unyielding urge returned. My biological clock was ticking so loud, I was hoping it would break. Her great news hit me so hard that I just started crying, and not just a whimper, but a full-on ugly cry. That is the pivotal moment I knew what my next life step would be. However, I knew Hubs didn’t want any more children, and marriages have dissipated because of matters just as this. He knew how much a baby, or even the attempt to have one, meant the world to me. He adjusted his thinking because of what I meant to him. God works in mysterious ways. So, we agreed to give it a try – I was going to get pregnant, or so I thought.

When I thought God blinked, He was actually winking.

Time passes as we are trying to create life. Doctors told me, throughout the years, that children may not be an option. I was either too fat or my periods were off or I don’t produce progesterone or something. Fact: I have always been overweight, but to tell me that I can’t have a baby because I am fat is a diagnosis I was not accepting, mostly because I know many plus-size women who have babies. Fact: I did not have a regular cycle, but I knew of women who had the same issue and have kids, so I wasn’t accepting that either. Fact: I didn’t produce progesterone. Ok, that is a better reason. I’ve had labs done, blood work, cameras in areas that need no audience, etc. Finally, I saw an OBGYN that did all types of labs on me and said that I had the symptoms of PCOS or Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, but she did not diagnose me. I found a better GYN that looked over all, and I mean ALL, of my lab work and diagnosed me with PCOS. This disease is closely related to diabetes. So, it turns out that I was too fat for pregnancy after all, but it was explained to me professionally and with a better bedside manner than doctors previously. After meds and a strict diet, I lost 50lbs. I felt great. It was time for vacation!

The Hubs and I went to Arkansas and Alabama and Kentucky to visit family. At this point, I have pretty much given up on the idea of having a kid. I wasn’t depressed, but seriously melancholy. Hub’s brother was expecting a daughter as well. I gave his wife “my” daughter’s name. I had a name picked out that I’ve been holding on to since high school in the event I ever had a little girl. The prospect was not looking good so I gave it up. (She didn’t take it. We found out later that she already had a name picked out for her daughter.) I gave “my” baby’s name away to anyone who would need it because they were expecting. My big brother’s girlfriend was thinking about names that went along with her oldest daughter’s name, Camari. I told her that she could have “my” baby’s name. It fit her growing family, and it seemed as though I didn’t need it any longer. More proof that I had truly given up on the idea of having “my” baby. My heart felt broken, as well as my spirit.

Did I give up on God?

My faith had been shaken. Was I not worthy of taking care of a life? Have my sins been so unforgivable that this one prayer can’t become a blessing? Has God forsaken me? Does He hear me? Or is His silence Him saying no? Why couldn’t I get over this dang cold?

We had a great time seeing family. We boarded our plane to get back to Vegas, and right after take-off, my right boob was throbbing so mercilessly! I thought it was just the turbulence of the flight or the height we were or the cabin pressure changed or a tumor or something. I was concerned. I told Hubs how much pain I was in, and although he offered to rub it, I was not for the PDA on this flight at this time. So, I took off my bra – for me, that is a HUGE deal because I am not a small-chested woman. So here I am, bra off, 35,000 feet in God’s basement, and my boobs are hitting my knees. The pain did not stop until we landed; the most uncomfortable three-hour flight I’ve ever encountered, or possibly will ever encounter…

What was going on, God?

On the plane, Hubs tells me I should take a pregnancy test. I look at him funny and shrug off that suggestion. This boob pain hasn’t happened before, especially not on land, so I thought it was an isolated incident. That’s all. However, Hubs can be extremely persuasive and assertive, so after work the very next day, which was a Monday, I bought a pregnancy test to appease him. He gets home from work and I tell him I’m going to take the test.

I go to the bathroom. I pee on stick. I wash my hands. I go back to cooking.

I tell Hubs the test is in the bathroom. I couldn’t go look at it. I’ve taken pregnancy tests before during our marriage and it’s always been a no. I couldn’t go look at it. He went to the bathroom with the courage that I needed. My heart was beating out of my chest as I was listening to music trying to drown out the sound. I hear, “Babe, what does one line mean?” I feel the tears well up. Another no. Why do I put myself in this emotional hell? I yell back, “Not pregnant” as my voice cracks. He yells again, “Babe, what do two lines mean?” Not that it mattered anymore, but I yell back, “pregnant.” Idiot.

He comes into the kitchen with the pee stick in his hand.

It had two lines.

God said yes. HE SAID YES!!

I screamed and cried. Hubs asked me, “How do you feel?” My response, “I don’t know how to feel!” It was a blend of ecstatic, scared, euphoric, terrified, overjoyed, startled, and humbly blissful beyond measure.

My baby is on the way. I was pregnant! 37 years old and I’m finally pregnant! A feat that was said would probably never happen! I am a vessel for life; one of God’s precious gifts is growing inside my womb. I prayed for a baby girl so I knew that if God answered the “pregnancy” prayer, the “girl” one was soon to follow. I’ve seen her already. She’s invaded my dreams; she’s already in my heart.

Hubs and I were trying to decide the next course of action: do we tell people or do we wait until after we see a doctor?

We called EVERYBODY that night! Hubs called his mother. She screamed. I called my mother, and her response was “Shut the hell up! I knew you were pregnant when you were here!” Yet, she didn’t tell me of this miracle. Hubs put on Facebook, simply, “She’s pregnant!” Of course, my social media announcement was a tad longer – I am not one to shy away from an opportunity to extend my happiness and appreciations to God through solicitous and uplifting verbosity. That is one trait I plan to pass on to my child.

My child. His child. Our child. That evening, Hubs rubbed my belly as the awe of the news is still simmering within my being. All I could do before I closed my eyes was thank God for what He’s already done in our lives.

We are blessed. Kamya is on her way.

Let the journey begin.

1 Sam 1: 27

For this child I prayed, and the LORD has granted me my petition that I made to him.”

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The Kamya Chronicles: A Love Journey

The During

2 Corinth 12: 8-10

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weakness, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

Interestingly enough, I don’t remember pregnancy. I know I was pregnant, obviously, but the intricacies of pregnancy escape me. It felt so quick; feeling robbed of certain aspects of pregnancy feels as if I am spitting in God’s eye, so I try to best place my adverse feelings in another category that’s neither unappreciative nor blasphemous. Still, I would’ve liked to have had more, secretly. More of? Well, I wanted maternity pictures. I wanted to see the movement of the baby inside me. I wanted the kicking. I wanted all the signs of pregnancy. I didn’t even look pregnant; it was a line I heard from many people’s mouths, not out of rudeness, but just observation – something I noticed myself.

During Spring Break of 2016, I found out we were pregnant; an accomplishment many in the medical profession has said would possibly never happen. So many reasons on the list for pregnancy not to happen, and then God…

After the news broke of this wonderful happenstance, more impeding reasoning came about during the pregnancy: my age, my weight, my blood pressure, my age coupled with this being the first pregnancy. So, with all those pre-existing conditions, not only do Republicans hate me, but so will this pregnancy. Thusly, I was titled “high-risk”. Grant it, I have the best GYN available, she referred me to the best facility to care for high-riskers such as I, yet I still felt slightly defeated early.

God, I asked for this, but am I right for this job? God is in control.

I cannot cast my eyes down when I’ve been looking up all this time. My Hubs and mother were so instrumental in keeping me elevated from the start. Yet and still, high-risk.

There were doctor’s appointments after doctor’s appointments after doctor’s appointments. Meds to keep my blood pressure normalized. Vitamins. Supplements. Prayer. All the while I am steadily concerned that all my bodily weaknesses will catch up with this pregnancy. Also, Kamya had to endure my issue of having low fluid; I just couldn’t drink enough water. There are so many issues tied to this pregnancy that I was feeling all types of guilt of what may happen after she’s here. Will she suffer because of my selfishness of wanting a baby? So many thoughts. So many things can go wrong. The sheer miracle of even becoming pregnant was masked by my doubt, which I know is the devil.

God, please remove all doubt from me. God is in control.

Eventually, I was just pregnant. Going to work. Being a wife. Day by day was normal. My Vegas family gave me a baby shower that was awesome and emotional – August 27th, 2016 was wonderful. Everything was beautiful and catered to my Hub’s and my wishes. “Heaven Sent” was the theme. After all the games and food and gifts and the CAKE (yum!), it came time for us to thank those who have been so instrumental in this blessing. The Hubs stood up and gave his speech, saying everything that I planned on reiterating. During his soliloquy, I can no longer contain my emotions and became a blubbering mess. I was so overwhelmed with the honor of favor bestowed on us. I know Kamya will be loved.

God is in control.

Five months into my pregnancy, I am in the doctor’s office twice a week to monitor my blood pressure, my fluid, her weight, and her heart-rate. She’s not growing as fast as she should. My OB tells me that I am probably looking at a C-section birth, for various reasons. A nurse asks me at one of these appointments if I wanted to have my tubes tied if I have a C-section. I gave a resounding yes. The fact is I am already blessed to be pregnant. I am facing all the high-risk challenges, yet my prayers have been answered to have a baby girl. I will be thrilled for just her, and no more.

God is in control.

On September 10th, my coworkers threw me another baby shower. This one was equally special, although my Hubs was in another state for his grandmother’s funeral. Although I wanted him with me, I was well taken care of. I had been blessed with so much for Kamya, but one thing in particular stood out to me. One of my coworkers discussed baby shoes she had purchased overseas for her son who never made it to this side of life. She said she had kept them for no other reason than to pass them on to someone she felt was deserving to have them. She passed them to Kamya. I felt so honored, and once again, became a blubbering mess.

God is in control.

The school year had started off fairly well – getting to know my students and letting them know what delicate condition I was in was all enlightening, and yet very difficult. I had the best start to the day, but my last three classes were very challenging for me due to hormones and behavior of certain students. I added this because it directly related to the next thing that occurred. On October 10th, I had my usual doctor’s appointment at the high-risk clinic. I was there for three hours after work without any clue as to what was going on. I just thought I was being routinely monitored, as many weeks before. A doctor came in and said they were concerned because Kamya’s heart rate dropped significantly. From that point on, I was required to be on bed-rest for the rest of the pregnancy. Kamya was originally due November 23rd. Because of my ongoing high-risk issues, her due date was moved to November 7th – that was the date for my planned C-section. So, okay. I have a month of rest to do. Fine.

Because I am a responsible working adult, I go to work the next day to discuss with my principal what order has been given to me by my doctor. This, in retrospect, was the wrong thing to do. I was so emotional over everything that Murphy’s Law sucker-punched me in the face! My stress level was outrageous. My hormones were off the charts. My students were taking every advantage of my non-attentiveness. My Hubs was not happy with my decision, to say the very least, but he supported why I went. I did not want to leave my employment without tying up loose ends, such as testing and a sub and locking up my personal stuff and my lesson plans; I just couldn’t leave cold-turkey. I was trying to be professional. My school is led by a wonderful person who made sure I was taken care of. She even asked me during the day over email: “why are you here?” That let me know I was in good hands, and so were my students.

I finished the day and stayed home. Feet elevated and micromanaging my blood pressure, water consumption, and rest. The next day, October 12th, I went to my scheduled doctor’s appointment for routine monitoring. Kamya’s heart rate dropped twice, and my fluid was severely low. I was visited by a doctor, a nurse, and some lady in a white jacket that I had never seen before to let me know that I was to report to the hospital immediately. The doctor was not my OB but he knew my case. He said that the baby would probably be born that day. My body can’t hold her anymore with my blood pressure, loss of fluid, and her dropping heart rate.

God is in control. God is in control. God is in control.

I immediately call my Hubs at work to tell him the news. He could tell in my voice that I was scared and told whoever he was talking to that he was leaving for the day. He tried to calm me but at this point, I am a blubbering mess yet again. The doctor told me not to worry, that I was going to a top hospital and had a fantastic OB to see me through this. That gave me comfort for a few minutes until I got in my car to get to the hospital. I had no bag, no plan, and I was by myself. I called my mother, who told me to pull over and prayed for me instantaneously. Right after the prayer and the call ended with my mother, my Hubs called to ask me where I was. He was on his way to the hospital but I was closer so I would beat him there. He was so strong and such a blessing for my nerves that were all over the place.

I get to the hospital and sign my papers (that weren’t ready) and I was given a corner of a room to be triaged. My Hubs finally gets to the hospital and meets me in my room. He calms me and tells me things will be alright. He was my rock, my held hand, my peace.

God is in control.

I was moved to a much bigger, more private room that had a baby-warmer in it. This is really about to happen. I get my IV, which is the single most painful thing I have ever had to endure up to this point in life! I get monitored. I get meds. I get questions. I get answers. I get time. I get prayers from family and friends via phone and social media. I get, that same day she prayed over me a few hours prior, my mother. She flew in to be with me.

My OB came to see me and told me that he wanted me to be monitored for a week and the C-section will be scheduled for the following Wednesday, when I’ve reached 36 weeks. He believed in the strength of my baby but he wanted her to incubate within me for a little while longer so she can get bigger and be monitored more closely.

So, I didn’t see the sun, the moon, my car, or the outside of the hospital for nine days, seven prior to my C-section and two after Kamya was born. I did have a window. Bright side. I did have my husband. I did have my mother. I did have a brother from college. Bright side. The hospital had some good food! Bright side. I did have visitors. I did have my dad and mom#2. Bright side.

I went through so much in a week. I had four IVs. I was poked and prodded numerous times for every reason. I ordered too many onions on a salad and had heartburn that could stop an elephant. I slept. I ate. I waited. I peed A LOT. I had social media prayers, text prayers, family prayers, friend prayers. I prayed. The Hubs prayed. My parents prayed. I had my mother when my Hubs needed to get rest for work. I had my Hubs when my mom needed to stretch her legs outside the hospital. I had up and down blood pressure. I had tears. I had stress. I hadn’t had a stitch of fresh air in a week. I slept. I ate. I waited.

Until…

On October 26th, at 10a, I walked hand-in-hand with the Hubs down the hallway to the operating room. We were followed by my mother and mom#2 taking pictures (by the way, I looked hideous!). I was separated from the Hubs so I can get prepared. I was put on the table and given my epidural. The anesthesiologist told me I may feel nauseous, and as soon as I was laid back, I vomited. I was strapped to the table, the cloth went up, and I felt nothing from the neck down. It was like I had no lower attachments whatsoever. The Hubs was let in the room with me, and he sat by my side. I’m feeling all types of weird and aloof and pressure, but no pain. I am anxious, nervous, and favored. I just wanted her here. No problems. No NICU. No issues. Just my daughter.

At 11:21a, by Cesarean-section, Kamya Yvonne was born… and she was perfect!

4lbs, 5oz, and 16.5in long.

God was in total control.

All of those prayers and longing and questioning came to a head when I heard my OB say: “Here she comes!” The Hubs went to take pics and a video of her but his space and opportunity was limited. I saw her, and took a picture with her and the Hubs while I was still on the table. There is not a word to describe my feelings at that time.

I was sown up and wheeled back to my room. It felt like forever was wrapped up into what I thought was an hour, but actually ended up being a few hours, according to the Hubs, until I saw Kamya again. They wheeled her into my room and I got lost in love all over again. She is mine. I have a daughter.

Before we could leave the hospital, she had to undergo a series of tests. I had to sign mounds of papers. I had to listen to professionals about breastfeeding and cleaning and my prescriptions and aftercare. I had a discussion with my OB and he met my family.

It was a wonderful experience bringing Kamya into the world.

On October 19th, we entered the hospital suddenly as a duo. On October 28th, two days after my C-section, we left the hospital to return home as a family of three. No NICU. No problems. No issues.

Just God in control.

Eccl 11: 5 As you do not know the way the spirit comes to the bones in the womb of a woman with child, so you do not know the work of God who makes everything.

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The Kamya Chronicles: A Love Journey

The After

Psalm 91: 1-2

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”

October 26th, 2016 will go down in history as being the most momentous date in my life, other than the day I got married; that day was a miracle as well. Anyway, I had my daughter; my Kamya was here. My family has been made complete. However, shortly after, another date was added to the list that, in the end, became an added blessing, and a lifestyle changer.

God, I thank You.

I must give my Hubs credit. It was no secret that he didn’t want to have any more children, but he knew how important it was to me to at least try. It’s never a definite for anyone to get pregnant, carry to full-term or even deliver, and I knew I had odds against me. He was so supportive of my feelings about having a child. He told me that when he married me, he knew this was going to be a topic for discussion, even more so because he knew I wanted his child before the thought of us ever being together. He gave me the ingredients to make Kamya, and through prayer, medication, weight loss, and patience, she is here.

God, I thank You.

Needless to say, but I will, that when the smoke cleared after Kamya’s birth, things became extra real. The family had to leave and go back to their respective homes and lives. The Hubs had to return to work. The specialness of the occasion was gone, and I was left with this 4lb, 5oz baby girl, alone for hours a day. I was petrified! God gave me this huge blessing in this tiny package, and I feared it. All types of what-ifs ran through my mind. Was I as prepared for this journey that I wanted to travel for so long? The Sunday night before the Hubs went back to work was a hard night. My Hubs is not one for outwards showing of sad emotions, but I told him that he is going to have to let me cry this one out. After I was done, I prayed, and I felt a little better, plus the Hubs gave me a pep talk that I needed to hear.

God, I thank You.

I fell in love so hard with this little face, little toes, little hands, and big smile when she was done eating or let out gas. She has completed my world. When much of my world said no, I shouldn’t, I couldn’t, I did. She is pure joy.

Kamya had her first trip out of state when she was only two months old. The Hubs and I had planned to go to the Grand Canyon to do our annual vow renewal. We made it there and back during the weekend of December 31st, 2016. We had a wonderful and cold time. On Monday, January 2nd, 2017, a that-will-never-happen-to-me thing happened: I had a heart attack – two months after having Kamya. It felt like horrible indigestion and I was HOT!! No other symptoms showed. This was a night that could’ve ended my time being a wife and mother. I was nervous but I didn’t feel it was the end. It wasn’t until much later that my cardiologist told me how bad it was. Admittedly, I felt scared but not fearful of dying. I was much more concerned for the Hubs than anything; he could’ve been a young widower with a very young baby. I was also concerned for my mother, my brother and sister, and Kamya, who I hadn’t got to get to know yet. I was just blessed. I didn’t think God would separate us just yet, and He didn’t.

God, I thank You!

Kamya had support though. She had her granny, she had her uncle, she had her auntie-cousin, and she definitely had her daddy. We were flooded with love and support from family and friends during this trying time. I had a brief hospital stay, 12 weeks of cardiac rehab, diet and lifestyle changes, and plenty of prayer and meditation. Even with all the good that occurred, I felt so guilty. I prayed and worked and prayed and worked some more to have Kamya, and two months into her existence, my genetics, bad decisions, and lackadaisical nature almost took me away from her. I vowed to do what I can to never put my family in that situation again. God gave me another chance at living, and now I am living for Kamya.

God, I thank You!

Today, I am healthier, smaller, happier, blessed, not at all rested, but thrilled to have the title of “mommy.” It seems like it took forever, but with God, it is right on time! I have had the bittersweet pleasure of being on-leave from work to raise my child for nine months; many people can contest that maternity/paternity leave is a joke in this country. I was blessed to have all these months to bond with Kamya instead of six or eight weeks, which is not nearly enough time to bond. I’ve had the pleasure of looking into this angelic and chubby-cheek face since her birth. She is my continued proof that miracles happen.

God, I will forever thank You!

2 Corinthians 12: 9

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.