Our Miracle Birth Experience: Part 3

Once the pitocin got into my system, oh boy did things kick into gear. Pitocin is a drug that acts a a synthetic hormone to Oxycontin, which helps the uterus to contract. Therefore, my contractions quickly intensified to another degree. Throughout the next four hours, the amount of pitocin that I received increased intermittently, as well as the intensity of my contractions. The contractions were so painful that I thought I was going to pass out. Each and every time I contracted, Evan was right there. When the onset of a contraction would come, I’d reach for Evan and ask, “Can I do this?” And he’d respond, “Yes, you got this. Let’s go!”

After that, I would stare at him, breathing unusually, until the contraction ended, and then I’d slump back down to wherever I was. At one point during a contraction, I gripped the insides of Evan’s arms so tightly that I thought I penetrated his skin with the grip of my nails. In that moment, Evan cringed with masked pain and stated, “Yep, I can take it! Come on!”

His support and gangster-like grit encouraged me.

Midway through the administration of pitocin, my mom walked in (mic drop). Guys, I had no clue that my mother and father had immediately hit the road to make the 8-hour trek to Chicago upon receiving notice that I’d been admitted to the hospital. Seeing my mom walk into the labor room made me cry unexpectedly. The pitocin caused the contractions to be so strong that when I wasn’t contracting, I looked like I had passed out. My mom immediately started crying when seeing me in such a weakened physical state.

In the room, I had my close friend, my husband, my mom, my doula, and the world's best photographer (Whitney Marner). I couldn’t have asked for better support.

By 1:15pm, I made up in my mind that I had endured my last contraction on pitocin. As if no one else was in the room, I looked at Evan and said, “I’m done Evan. I can’t do this anymore.”

I looked at the nurses and told them to get me off of the pitocin. I kept repeating over and over, “Get me off this pitocin. I can’t do this anymore.”

The midwife relayed the benefits of remaining on pitocin, considering that my contractions were still irregular. Looking back in hindsight, baby boy was simply trying to get in the right position before coming out. I wish someone had told me this and given me further insight into what positions to do to help baby boy engage in the right position. Hence, why my contractions were so irregular.

After 4 hours on pitocin, my contractions were intense but were still coming every 8-12 minutes. Things weren't progressing as expected. The midwife gave me other options in order to handle the pain—an epidural being one of them.

I was in such a state of delusion that I just looked at Evan and said, “You decide. All I know is that I can’t keep going on like this.” Evan reminded me of all the past times that I reminded him of just how much I didn’t want an epidural. Yada-yada-yada. All I knew was that I just wanted to get off of the pitocin. At the same time, I didn't want to be in labor for days. While trying to decide my options, I unexpectedly threw up several times. My body, which was already weak, became that much more feeble.

With the decision left unmade, the nurses and midwife stepped out of the room so that Evan and I could decide whether or not I wanted to move forward with an epidural. By this time, I “accidentally” snatched the IV out of my arm so that I was receiving no more pitocin.

Evan and I came to the conclusion to get the epidural. I knew that I couldn’t endure anymore more hours/days of labor—which looked likely without the pitocin (Did I tell you that I still hadn’t dilated any further in the four hours of laboring with pitocin? And did I tell you that they ended up rupturing my membrane too—that is breaking my water—and that I still hadn’t dilated any further by 1:15PM?)  In my head, I just wanted to eat lol. I kept thinking, “Can we just take an hour break to let me eat, nap, and then get back to it later?” But I guess labor doesn’t work like that? Or maybe it does, under different circumstances. Well, back to the story.

Our Miracle Birth Experience: Part 2

I thought laying down was a difficult position to be in when enduring a contraction, but doing so in a moving car proved much more trying. As we neared the hospital, I screamed for Evan to pull over as soon as  I felt the next contraction. Evan pulled over... but he slowly inched along the side of the road.

“STOP... THE CAR!!!!” I roared from an inner place that I usually don’t let out.  I think the intensity of my yell, again, shocked me more than him.

Once entering the hospital, Evan and I had to stop a couple of times to allow the next contraction to pass before finally arriving at triage for labor and delivery. Thankfully, we were taken back immediately where I was seen by my midwife. My midwife quickly checked to see how far along I was, and to my and Evan’s surprise, I was already 6 cm dilated. I knew I wasn’t just being a baby. I was officially in active labor!

With that, Evan and I packed up our belongings and transitioned from triage to the labor room. Y’all, by this time, I was willing to do whatever it took to get this baby to come. I geared up mentally as if I were in the NFL about to go out on the field on super bowl Sunday. Once in the labor room, I changed into my gown, put my favorite flip flops on, and then headed out to the hallways to walk/squat in order to endure the remainder of the contractions.

After two hours of Evan and I walking the hallways and me squating at each onset of a contraction, he and I  went back to the labor room. I then stepped into the labor tub (which felt SOOOO good!) . But I guess I felt too relaxed because my contractions completely stopped for a period of time. As a result, I jumped out of the tub and headed back out to the hallways for another set of squats.

 From midnight until 9:00AM Friday morning, despite my efforts, I only increased in dilation by 1 centimeter. The midwives gave me the option to either rupture my membranes (i.e. break my water for me) or to get on pitocin. These options were given after being warned  that I could be in labor for days at the rate that I was going. With no food since admittance to the hospital, I was deadbeat tired and working on a lack of sleep from the last 3 nights.

After hearing that I had only dilated by 1 more cm, I broke down into tears. No, it wasn't like a tear hear and there. I let the flood gates open. I felt physically, emotionally, and spiritually depleted. I had been trying to be strong all the way up until this point, and to be honest, it wasn’t the pain that broke me, but it was the lack of knowing when the end would draw near, and whether or not I could make it to that end, that left me discouraged and frustrated. My tears flowed into gentle sobbing as I fell over into Evan’s chest.

I looked at my good friend and asked if she could read scripture over me. The words that left her mouth were so refreshing to hear, but if I can be honest, I felt so far from the Lord. Up until this point, I hadn’t been in prayer throughout labor. And to be honest, I just wanted to use my own willpower to push this baby out. But despite all of the books I’d read, all of the supposed preparation I’d done, all of the knowledge I’d gathered, nothing was working. Nothing was going according to “my” plan.  

Evan and I prayed regarding whether to get the pitocin or to have the midwife rupture my membranes. We sensed the Holy Spirit's leading and decided to get the pitocin administered. While the nurses prepared to place an IV into my arm, Evan confided in me that the Lord spoke to him Proverbs 3:5-6,

“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thine ways, acknowledge Him and He will direct thy paths.”

Up until that point, I had been leaning on my own understanding.

This labor was already showing me just how weak I was and that I couldn’t just will myself to push this baby out.

God was in control. Yes, I was about to have this baby, but even more so, looking back, the Lord was also teaching me a lesson about Himself and about me. He was humbling me and showing me that He desired for me to trust in His power and Sovereignty rather than leaning on my own strength and knowledge. I’ve asked the Lord several times since then how to do both. That is, how can I be a lover of knowledge and simultaneously lean on the Holy Spirit?

Since then, He’s taught me that there is a difference between being a lover of knowledge, and being one who places her hope in knowledge. He wants me to acquire knowledge as much as possible, but He also wants me to be weary of placing my hope in it.

Our Miracle Birth Experience

For the 4th time, I woke up in the middle of the night to use the restroom. But this time was different. After several weeks of praying “when?”, I  finally heard a subtle hint. As I walked to the restroom, God let me know, in His own way, that my labor would start on that Wednesday. Therefore, on Tuesday night, I waited in anticipation for our newest arrival. I figured labor would be quick and easy and that the baby would be arriving within hours. Oh, what an assumption!

Around 11:30 PM on Tuesday night, I suddenly woke up in discomfort. It felt like something was sliding down my birth canal.  I didn’t think it felt like a contraction. Instead, I thought that it was simply an uncomfortable sleeping position that I found myself in.  However, after laying back down for another 30 minutes, I woke up again in discomfort. This time, I got up to use the restroom. I soon discovered that my mucus plug had fallen out. How I wish you could've seen my excitement! While in the restroom, I sent a quick text to one of my best friends to begin praying. I subtly alluded to her that I was in the beginnings of labor. I then took my birthing ball to the living room and began attempting to open up my hips, while distracting myself with a documentary on the history channel. After about an hour of doing that, my adrenaline kicked in when considering that I could potentially see our son in the coming hours. I really wanted to get labor going. By this time, my husband had awakened and his face was priceless when seeing me in the living room bouncing on a birthing ball at 1 AM in the morning. I didn’t want to wake him, because I figured that he would need all the rest he could get in case I was actually in labor.

“I think we should climb stairs,”  I said in response to his contemplative expression. 

After little convincing, regarding the benefits of climbing stairs to kick-start labor, Evan put his tennis shoes on. I think Evan's sudden sense of urgency had less to do with wanting to start labor and more to do with not wanting to hear another wave of incessant convincing proceeding from my lips. With that, Evan and I went to the lower level of our condominium and climbed 19 flights of stairs. Sounds crazy, I know, but didn't I tell you that I was running on adrenaline with the thought that we could soon be seeing our son?!

While climbing stairs, I soon realized that the discomfort that I was feeling earlier were actually subtle contractions. I came to this realization after seeing that the discomfort only came every 10-15 minutes. Well by 2:00 AM, after climbing 19 flights of stairs, Evan and I went back to sleep. With each contraction, I woke up to record the duration of the contraction on my app “contractions.” By 6:00 AM, the contractions were still 10-15 minutes apart. Because I was still running on adrenaline, I woke up, cleaned up, showered, shaved my legs (yes, I wanted to look like a woman during labor), and placed our suitcases by the door. By 7:00 AM, I woke up Evan and asked him to take me to Whole Foods, which was right down the street, for my last meal before heading to the hospital (so I thought). With that, we left for Whole Foods with our suitcases, stroller, and car seat in tow.

At Whole Foods I purchased my favorite frozen pizza (yasssss Table 5 cornmeal crust pizza) and purple grapes. I’d been planning for weeks to eat this before heading to the hospital, where I knew I wouldn’t be able to eat once I was admitted.  Well after returning home and consuming my last supper, by 12:00 PM, the contractions were growing more intense. Yet, they were still 10-15 minutes apart. By late afternoon, my contractions had stopped all together and didn’t resume until later that evening. This birth experience was already not going according to plan.

By Wednesday night, the contractions started back up again. This time, they were consistently 10 minutes apart and much more intense. Around 5:30 AM on Thursday morning, Evan and I took several laps in the lobby of our condominium and climbed a few stairs. I hadn’t gotten much sleep from the night before, and by this time, I just wanted our  baby to come. As the day progressed, my contractions didn’t cease but remained steady by being 10 minutes apart.

Let me pause by stating that at this point, the contractions were...painful but NOT unbearable. When they’d come, I would pause, concentrate, and breathe/moan throughout them. I would become so irritated if Evan asked me any questions or made any noise/comments when I was contracting. It was as if I needed all the concentration to focus throughout each wave of intensity.

Okay back to the order of events. As Thursday morning went on, I became accustomed to hearing my own moans every 10 minutes. With each contraction, I told myself the baby was that much closer to being seen. But by 3:00 PM on Thursday afternoon, I had had enough. I was riding  in the car with Evan, after letting him know, pretty sternly, that I needed some Nana Moo coconut milk ice cream from Mariano’s... because Whole Foods, which was around the corner, didn’t have the flavor that I wanted. So there we were, driving to the store. After purchasing it, we called the midwife. What I wanted to say to the midwife was,

“I’m in pain! I’m ready to have this baby. Be ready cause we about to show up at this hospital!”

But, I didn’t.

Instead, I politely answered the coming questions.

“No, my contractions aren’t 3-5 minutes apart. No, my water hasn’t broken. (And no, I don’'t want to just wait it out!).”

We weren’t going to the hospital after all. Because I requested to have a natural labor, my midwives suggested that I labor at home as long as possible until I was in active labor (which supposedly would occur when contractions were 3-5 minutes apart).

So after leaving the store, Evan and I headed back home. By 4:30 PM, my friend came over to help me do some more walking in order to hopefully get labor going. We walked...and walked..and walked. Every 8-12 minutes, we’d pause, I’d  lean against the wall, and inwardly yelp.

By 6:00pm, my contractions were still just as intense but not consistent.

By 8:00PM, while watching a movie with my friend and her husband who were keeping us company, I let Evan know that I wanted to go to the hospital. Because I was planning on having the baby naturally, we knew that this didn’t make much sense considering our plan was to only go to the hospital once I began active labor (i.e. at least 6 cm dilated) so that I wouldn’t be laboring at the hospital for so long.  Despite these reminders, I wanted to go to the hospital right then.  

Evan, using his better judgment, suggested that we wait a couple of hours to see what would happen. Well around 10:30 PM I went to bed. Actually, I pulled out a sleeping bag to sleep on the floor, because at this point, I needed to be able to lift myself up easily whenever a contraction came. But upon laying down and enduring the next contraction, I yelled with so much intensity that I shocked myself. (There's something about laying down, versus sitting up/walking during a contraction, that made contractions worse) I ran to the restroom and yelled for Evan. With the next contraction, I told Evan to take me to the hospital. I’m not usually so forceful (well, during pregnancy, such force would come about when a craving overcame me, hence the scenario with the NanaMoo ice cream) but I got up, grabbed my coat, my keys, my phone, and headed towards the door. I wasn't playing lol. Thankfully, our friends were still over. My best friend and her husband had actually decided to spend the night, just in case something like this were to happen. I’m so happy they did, because my friend’s support proved most pivotal in the coming hours!!

We called the midwife, and after letting us aware of our options, the midwife left it up to us to decide whether we wanted go to the hospital. My mind was made up. And thankfully, Evan didn’t object (I didn’t leave him much of a choice). Therefore, we all rushed to the hospital.

Feeling Empty?: The Moment I Realized that Nothing in This World Satisfied

Deadline at hand, I sat in the library at my computer, while wrestling with an increasing inward annoyance that began to become stronger by the day. I felt my world crumbling from the outside, and all of my ways of medicating the discomfort—through food, affirmation from my then boyfriend, academic success, a written schedule (to distract me from my own thoughts), facebook scrolling, going out and dancing—all failed. I unconsciously turned to every  single thing that brought me satisfaction in the past. It was like someone had frozen all of my bank accounts, and like a credit card that seems to decline, I stood in the cashier line pulling out every single card in my possession, hoping for some return. Without realizing what was going on, I inwardly began to give up.

I don’t know if you’ve ever felt it or experienced it. It’s almost like the nostalgia of childhood comes to an end and that inner joy and peace that you once felt, simply for just “being,” dissipates. The hopeful eyegate of the world grows dim, and life doesn’t seem so pleasant anymore. Some may feel it at the age of 12, others decades later. For me, it happened when I was 19.

During Finals of my Freshman year in college, for lack of better words, I felt totally and utterly...empty.  

If you’re reading this and know what I’m talking about, you understand that it’s not something that you can readily explain without experiencing it. If you are reading this, and nodding your head in agreement, mainly because you are feeling it now, there’s hope.

After turning to every single thing that I thought would satisfy my gnawing longing for “more,” He found me. I wasn’t looking for HIm. I wasn’t searching diligently for HIs truths. He simply found me. The ways in which He did are for another blog post. But the revelation received when He did, is the essence of what I want to convey. You can go through this life searching and looking for more. And maybe you find it. But I can guarantee you, that sooner or later-- that longing will reappear. That thing that you once found satisfaction in, will disappoint. And that emptiness in which I describe, will become a reality once again.

When Christ found me, I thought (like everything else) the love and peace that I felt would go away with time. I literally counted the months until I’d go back to my old habits, my old ways, and my old desires. Though I stray from His fold many times, upon my return, the same love and peace that I felt years ago remains the same. He doesn’t change. His presence is just as addicting. His security is just as promising. His forgiveness is just as powerful to wash away my dirt. And HIs fullness is always available.

I encourage you, whether you know Christ or not, if you are sensing this longing, like a babe in the arms of his mother, simply give up and ask the Lord to “find you.”  He’d be happy to leave 99 of his righteous sheep to find the one.

Confess that you are a mess and in need of help. I promise, as He is a loving Father, He will beckon your call. The way in which He chooses to pick you up into His arms may not always feel pleasant in the moment. Sometimes, it may feel like He is hurting you further. But this is a lie. He desires more than anything to be intimate with you. But You have to trust HIm.

My only encouragement is that once you are in His arms, don’t push away. Don’t try to fix yourself up further. Simply just “be.”   

5 Things I'm Learning in Marriage

4. Run to God 1st...then that book, blog, friend, mentor, sermon.

Run to God 1st...

Then that book, blog, friend, mentor, sermon.

This is probably the hardest for me and the most undervalued lesson learned. Whenever there is a disagreement, I’m so prone to run to “fixing it”—subtly telling myself that I am more capable than God and any wisdom/ guidance that He can grant. My best advice is to first run to God in prayer and WAIT  for Him to lead/guide you on what your next step should be.

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5. What God has brought together, let no man separate

"For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh? 6 So then, they are no longer two but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let not man separate.” - Matthew 19:5-6

This is by far the most restful and grace-filled lesson that I've learned/am learning. During our first year of marriage, I admit that I was plagued by the fear of divorce. I continuously looked at my flaws and suspected that something bad would happen and that we wouldn't make it. I went to the Lord in fear, as I meditated on my vows, and came to the realization that I simply couldn't do it. 

Due to this underlying fear, certain thoughts would produce more fear. The moment I sensed trouble, fear produced more fear. And before I knew it, the Lord was no longer in my thoughts. I kept thinking of hypothetical situations, entertained "what ifs," and blew up minor disagreements into major ones. But what I've come to understand now, is that Evan and I didn't come together on our own accord. The Lord brought us together. Therefore, when I see the enemy attempt to pull us apart—albeit through people, our own flesh, or circumstance—this verse grants me immense comfort. Why? 

I have the permission to go the Lord holding onto His promise rather than holding onto panic/fear. I can boldly state, "Abbah, You see this ___is pulling us apart. Now, You brought us together. I trust and wait on You to move, to guide, or to remove "xyz"so that we may be on1 accord.  I know that You desire this more than I do! I trust in You to help us through because Your Namesake is on the line." 

Marriage is bigger than any 2 people. It is a narrative that the Lord writes, directs, and constructs. Therefore, when I sense trouble now, I go to the Director. It's not my problem. I simply lay it at His feet and watch Him move for His own Namesake. For His own Glory.

I must warn you though. When you do this, don't be surprised if you find that the stumbling block within this beautiful narrative is not an outside force...but is actually you. Haha, this has happened to me on more than 1 occasion! 

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Let No Man Separate

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3.  Sex is not only a physical act but a spiritual necessity

- Genesis 2:24

“Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.”

-Proverbs 5:19

“A lovely deer, a graceful doe. Let her breasts fill you at all times with delight; be intoxicated always in her love.”

Growing up, the introduction of sex was introduced to me, unfortunately. from episodes of watching the soap opera “Days of Our Lives.” I thought sex was a physical act intended to grant the most physically pleasurable experience. Unconsciously, this notion later prevailed my mind in moments of lustful thoughts in my season of singleness. I knew that sex was a powerful force that could be used to destroy if entered into prior to marriage. But I hardly considered the powerful benefits, beyond physical pleasure, offered for both spouses within the context of marriage.

Prior to marriage, an older and seasoned Christian woman shared with me that Satan would do everything in his power to get me and Evan in the bed prior to marriage, and that Satan would do everything in his power to get us out of the bed within marriage. When I first heard this, I was kind of blown away. I always thought...

"If I can just make it to marriage...all will be well."

I never realized that the same spiritual forces pulling me into fornication within singleness, could also have the potential to pull me away from my future husband even within marriage.

If sex was so dangerous outside the context of marriage, then it made sense for it be so powerful within the context marriage.  

Satan knows this. Why didn’t I? Which leads me to my next statement.

Sex is not merely a physical act. It is a spiritual necessity within the confines of marriage.

"Sex is not only a physical act, but it's a spiritual necessity."

-PonderedThought

It brings the Lord pleasure. It is an act of worship. It is an act that is a reflection in the physical realm of what already exists in the spiritual realm--beautiful oneness. It is a type of mysterious glue that binds one to the other in ways that my mind is too finite to conceive. I’m not a theologian, and I’m surely not God, but from personal experience, I believe it has helped me respect my husband more. It has helped my heart soften when it wants to grow hard and bitter. It has helped me practice the act of denying myself and joyfully giving of myself when I wish to be selfish.  And honestly, I’ve seen it take the edge off of the already difficulties found within marriage lol. It is that and so much more.

Sex is a powerful necessity needed for both husband and wife. To deduce it to being “merely” a physical experience for the self is to gravely and disrespectfully  deduce the divine gift that God has created.  It is physical AND it is that and so much more. Be mindful next time you find yourself in a pattern of telling your spouse that “you just don’t feel like it.” Be mindful of who/what is pushing you away from your marriage bed. Satan knows the power of sexual intimacy between husband and wife. Do you?

In the same vein, be mindful of why you wish to engage in sexual intimacy with your spouse. Do you view sex as only a physical experience to grant the self pleasure? When I think of the times in which I’ve experienced the most intimacy with Christ, it was when I gave of myself fully to Him. In return, I inevitably felt the indescribable hedonistic pleasures of simply being in His presence. The same goes in sexual intimacy.  When husband and wife both enter into the marriage bed with a selfish mindset of how to please the self, one’s actions subtly reveals one's belief about sex—merely a physical act  for the self. But in actuality, it is a spiritual necessity that helps one to deny oneself in giving the other pleasure, and in effect produces the most pleasurable fruit as one draws closer to Christ.  

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2.  Male and Female differences are meant to be celebrated and not denigrated

celebrate difference

Growing up in a house with 5 women, conversations easily flowed from dinner, to the game room, and into the night. My sisters and I fought a lot, but we also grew accustomed to endless chatter, free flowing hugs and kisses, and conversations about clothing, celebrity gossip, and controversial political topics. When I married my husband, I took these acts of intimacy and connection with my sisters and tried to apply them to him.  I was in a for a rude awakening. My husband, a man, was so different. We dated for 6 years, and so I don’t mean to insinuate this newfound “difference” as synonymous to incompatible. No, I moreso mean “different” as in “perplexing.” He appeared as a puzzle, and I a mere observer who simply tried to make sense of things.  He sparked some of the following questions:

Why did he need to have time to himself after a long day at work, when my type of "unwinding" involved talking to him endlessly about my day from the moment I walked in the door? Why did his eyes light up on when seeing a long, drawn-out action scene on a movie, when I was literally covering my eyes counting down until its ending? Why did he just wipe his hand on his side pants leg when I just gave him a napkin? But moreso, why did I notice something so small like that...and cringe?

Every male and female is different. But it’s funny when such over-generalizations show up in marriage. Instead of denigrating and trying to control/find answers to these questions, it’s important to celebrate such differences and thank God that He is so creative in making human beings so immeasurably different and yet so mysteriously compatible. I now love going to an action movie and seeing that moment when my husband is looking so intently into the screen. I love that when I notice crumbs in places that irk me, he doesn’t seem to care. I love giving my husband his man time and seeing him return refreshed. I don’t know the answers to such questions. But I’ve come to love the differences... because that’s what makes my husband my husband.  

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1. Unity is not simply found in compromise but in Christ

Unity

...is not found in merely compromise

but in Christ.

-Proverbs 3:5-6

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not unto thine own understanding. Acknowledge Him in all thine ways and He will direct thy paths (Some verses are hard to translate outside of the KJV lol)

There have been so many times in which I felt that marriage composed of compromise 100% of the time. If I wanted something and my husband wanted another...I figured we’d just come to the middle and keep it moving. I thought this would simply maintain inevitable peace between my husband and I. But what I’ve come to find out is that true unity, true oneness, and true concordance is found in Christ and not in a set methodology of seeking merely compromise. There will be times in which the Holy Spirit will tell you to simply meet the other all the way rather than in the middle, and vice versa. It is important to follow the Spirit, even in the most mundane things. He is intimately connected to every detail in your life.

When you sense this nudge, be careful to not hold onto your own worldly knowledge by exclaiming that you have every right to not give in; or be careful to not add up all the countless times in which you’ve felt yourself give in already. This leads only to bitterness, as you can easily slip into pointing the finger incessantly at the other. When both you and your spouse are following Christ, it produces the most beautiful fruit. When you find yourself being the only one following Christ, always remember that His grace is sufficient. He gives you the right amount of  grace to handle your spouse, that situation, or that decision made without your approval. Unity may not always be found in compromise. It's found in Christ! Listen to His wisdom and not your own.  

Waiting to Kiss...Our Story

-----Describes a time before marriage

Waiting to Kiss...

Nothing compared to the storm raging inside us as our arms linked together and kisses poured forth. I hadn’t seen Evan in more than 6 weeks, and the passionate welcoming—as privacy ensued unnoticed by the closing of the door—quickly resulted. My mind clouded out clear judgment as lust poured forth with quick vengeance.

“Lord is this pleasing to you?” I pleaded as the wave of emotion fought to bring down any moment of reason.

I quickly felt assurance that it indeed was not. Unfortunately,  I proceeded anyway. I justified my decision by acknowledging that I was only expressing pure love through a passionate kiss. What could it hurt? Nonetheless, the sweet communion with the Lord that I was experiencing, moments before Evan’s appearing, quickly dissipated.

“Lord, is...this  pleasing... to you?”

Coming to my senses, I realized that I was about to be late for my hair appointment. Thankful for the abrupt end to a passionate kissing session, I told Evan that I needed to go and he gladly volunteered to drive me to my appointment. While he drove, I thought carefully on the possibility of engaging in a relationship with Evan without the sweet benefits of kissing. In all honesty, kissing was something I looked forward to the most when Evan and I were separated.

Evan and I were both Sophmores in college and were in a long distance relationship. We met in high school and had been going on four years in dating at the time. Due to going to separate colleges, Evan and I mainly saw each other when we were home for break. And when we saw one another, kissing was a central theme.

 In high school, our friends considered it strange that Evan and I were dating without engaging in sex. While others thought this to be strange, Evan and I thought it to be preposterous to be in a relationship and not kiss. "Oh, how strange that would be!" we often thought. 

As I sat in the car waiting to be dropped off, I couldn’t shake the fact that me kissing Evan was not pleasing to the Lord. But what was the alternative? It seemed impossible. While I was in a flood of thoughts, Evan pulled up to my beauty shop and characteristically stated, “Give me a kiss.” I looked forward to the separation from Evan so that I could think about this curveball that I felt the Lord was throwing at me.

The next day, Evan invited me over to his parents’ house. I put my cute black dress on & boots, grabbed my brown bag, and left my house. Once I arrived, we spoke with his parents but in a moment of privacy, we kissed. I pulled away and tried to gather my words.

“What?” Evan asked, knowing something was on my mind.

“Can we do a Holy kiss?” I said (insert don't judge me LOL).

The night before, I read the epistles and read how Paul said to greet others with a kiss. In my naivete, I took this to mean that perhaps I can kiss but maybe there is holy and unholy way.

“Jessica, what is that?” he said, while beginning to cautiously laugh.

I didn’t know exactly how to demonstrate it, but I knew that whatever we had been doing—wasn’t bringing the Lord pleasure. I wanted to think of a way to kiss that perhaps brought pleasure. With amusement, Evan complied to play along. But the opposite of “holy” kisses quickly prevailed. I left his house completely surrendered. As I pulled away in my dad’s truck, I told the Lord clearly that if He wanted us to not kiss that He would have to make it work because I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it. He would have to figure out a way because, holy or unholy, my flesh wanted Evan.

That night, I fell asleep while contemplating why the Lord expected me to do this.

Why take away this one physical pleasure when Ev and I were not having sex?

The next morning, I woke up earlier than usual. I was on a school break and had more than enough time to sleep in. But I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. To my utter shock, upon swallowing, a sharp pain resulted. I had a severe sore throat. I hadn’t been sick in MONTHS, and when I did get sick, it  resulted in a sinus infection mostly—never a sore throat. It was 5AM in the morning when the text came through Evan’s phone.

“We can’t kiss anymore. I’ll explain later,”  I texted.

Evan, being an early bird, called me shortly after. I explained to him the bidding of the Holy Spirit, the prayer, the sore throat, everything. By this time, I didn’t need another sign. Some may have thought it a coincidence, but the Lord made it very clear to me that although I couldn't stop kissing in my own strength, if I surrendered, He'd find a way to help me to do so.  Kissing wasn’t the issue. The real issue was that I couldn’t kiss Evan without falling into a state of lust, which happened to linger long after the actual kiss itself.

Later that day, Evan and I met at the park. We were so accustomed to hanging out and kissing, and so it was a bit awkward understanding how we were to hang out without such a defining activity in our relationship. As we sat in the car, we couldn’t help but laugh.

“So how long is this supposed to last? Like is this just temporary or…” Evan asked.

I didn’t know. I just knew that kissing wasn’t pleasing to the Lord. And I clearly didn’t know how nor understand how to kiss in such a way that would bring "Him" pleasure.

“I don’t know. I just know that we aren’t supposed to,” I said.

So there we sat in the car at the park, watching the lake in front of us. As we talked and laughed, the lack of kissing didn’t quiet our physical longing, but increased it that much more.  

Who was I kidding? I couldn’t do this.

And just as quickly as hopelessness tried to set in, the Lord led me to imagine Himself sitting behind us. The image of His sweet presence sobered me in a way that is a bit indescribable. I realized that I was Christ's daughter and Evan was His son. Interestingly enough, remembering that Christ was always in our Presence, placed things in perspective. I wasn’t just lusting for Evan, I was lusting for my Saviour’s Son; and I, Christ’s wife, was lusting for another man.

We made it through the first date without slipping. Not realizing the extent to God’s grace, He allowed us to not kiss until we became husband and wife, 3 years later.  SUCH GRACE—not kidding.

As time went on, I would sometimes look back and wonder why the Lord spoke to me and not to Evan. It wasn’t until later that Evan reluctantly revealed to me that he too felt that the Lord was telling us not to kiss 3 years prior to the Lord speaking to me (when we were in high school). Due to not seeing how, Evan ignored it.

“Always have a listening ear would seemingly be the lesson learned from this experience”, but instead , I’d say this—when God speaks, He’s not expecting us to do anything in our own strength. When He speaks, trust that He will, or already has, provided you with a way to fulfill what He has initially commanded through the power of the Holy Spirit.

1 Peter 1 : 3

“ 3 His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness.”

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