Читать книгу 61 Minutes to a Miracle - Bonnie L. Engstrom - Страница 10

Chapter 2

Love, Marriage, and a Baby in a Baby Carriage

I met Travis on my first day of work at the Saint Francis of Assisi Catholic Student Center. I was a recent college graduate, and he was a super senior who did maintenance at St. Francis in exchange for room and board. He was strong, tan, and handsome. He was also still in love with his ex-girlfriend, so we spent our day cleaning, rearranging furniture, and talking about her.

Over the next two years, our friendship grew. Every day we saw each other, worked together, and chatted. Meanwhile, he got back together with his girlfriend, who became his fiancée, and I went on dates with various men, none of whom met Travis’s approval. But as my best friends left for convents, I relied on my friendship with Travis more and more. He was kind and gentle and not afraid of hard work. He treated me and every woman with respect, and he made me laugh. It wasn’t long before I realized that he was one of my best friends and one of the people I respected most in life.

As our friendship deepened, Travis felt a growing tug toward the priesthood. In the spring of my second year at St. Francis, he ended his engagement so he could more seriously discern life as a religious or diocesan priest. I was nothing but proud of him, and cheered him on.

For weeks, Travis daily went to the chapel and asked God, “What do you want me to do with my life?” While he was asking about routes to the priesthood, the day came when God clearly answered. But instead of a collar, God showed him me. I knew nothing of this answered prayer, but it wasn’t long after that I realized I was in love with Travis. Over the two years our friendship had grown in love, respect, and admiration, and once we individually realized what had happened, we came together to discuss it. Two weeks later we had a wedding date selected; four weeks after that there was a ring on my finger, and wedding plans moved ahead. Six months later, we were married.

We honeymooned in Scotland, where I quoted Braveheart in a ridiculously bad accent while Travis drove us through the gorgeous countryside. Once we returned home, we went to the movies, drove Travis’s 1969 Chevelle with the windows down to and from the ice cream shop, and rode our bikes on country roads. Soon we bought a fixer-upper and began daily trips to various home improvement stores.

Five months after our wedding, I took a pregnancy test. Positive. We were thrilled and scared and all the feelings that come to first-time parents. But within the week the small baby had died, and I spent my first Mother’s Day miscarrying. In my grief I read every baby book I could get my hands on. My obstetrician’s bedside manner was lacking as I cried over the lost pregnancy, so I found myself more and more drawn to books about homebirth. The authors, midwives, and homebirth community seemed to respect life, pregnancy, babies, women’s bodies, and motherhood in a way that I had not encountered at my ob/gyn’s office. They validated my grief and the love I felt for the child I had lost. So, when I found myself pregnant again, Travis and I met with a homebirth midwife. By the end of our interview, we knew we wanted her to be the one to deliver the baby, and that we would do so from the comfort of our own home.

My pregnancy with Lydia and her homebirth were perfect, and when I found myself pregnant with Bennet, we continued with the same midwife. Travis and I enjoyed being home, eating birthday cake and watching the Jason Bourne movies together while snuggling with our babies.