My third pregnancy was incredibly difficult. Morning sickness grabbed hold of me early and hard and didn’t let go until the day my daughter was born. The medication I took only got me up to the level of feeling terrible.
One day as I waited for my prescription to be filled, I went across the street into the sanctuary of our church and began to pray desperately.
“Please, Lord, take this from me. I don’t know that I can do it anymore.” I laid my heart before Jesus and cried out in my pain. When I was done, I was gently led to look up. In front of me was Jesus on the cross, and He spoke directly to my heart.
“If I can do this for you, can you do this for her?”
That wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear.
But, when I gazed upon my Savior, I saw that my suffering was nothing compared to what He had done for me. I knew that this child needed everything my poor body could give, and I was being asked to give it. I knew that it wouldn’t be easy, but in light of the cross, I knew that I would be given the strength to do it.
This is the power of love. This is the power of sacrifice. This is the power of uniting our suffering with that of Christ.
It brings forth life, every time.