Doctor death (with-a-little-d)

It was in the vicinity of valentines day. She had been married only a couple of months & was satisfied with her two new titles of wife and working woman, in that order. Ample titles for a still young at heart 22-year-old. Content, for now to just be the two of them!

…just so you don’t have to wonder further, she isn’t me. Lets call her Molly… and this is just a chapter in her story.

It’s not her favourite part cos we are about to meet Molly in a distraught puddle of sobs. This is not unusual for a fairly passionate girl. But right now, in Doctor d’s examining room, her emotions are perceived to be a little more acute than usual. The thing is Molly really DOES want to have children. One day. Maybe in like 4 years time. She just wants to grow and be married for a bit first – maybe that’s where the tears came from. Hubby and her had talked about children but in the same sentence as ‘Copper T’… and the worst thing is that Doctor-gynae d cannot explain this contraceptive malfunction. He had been so completely convincing… that it would be invincible, impregnable.

And then the lucid moment came.
There was pain, Molly cried out and Dr-d said “sshhhh…..”

That’s when the wobbly, emotional sobs felt warm and comforting in comparison to the sober, cold, unease which followed. A paralyzing realization. Dr-d had hatched a plan to match his interpretation of Molly’s expressive & hormonal sobs. Worse… he had executed it.

The plan……………………….. AND the baby!

Relief?  No, only sorrow. That’s what Molly felt. She hadn’t meant that.

Time folded together and all Molly remembered was leaving with some irreparable details. Tomorrow something more would pass.
And then it would be over. Would the feelings pass over too?

What is hubby going to say? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t even know that this morning she was pregnant and this afternoon she wasn’t.

Wrecked! But they will move forward together.


Tomorrow- Nothing. Next day- Nothing.
Together they re-face Dr death: That’s his real name.
He doesn’t understand this malfunction – again. He feels out of control, unprofessional. He wants to complete. Tie up the loose ends. Make the man in the frame on his wall proud.

BUT Father says NO.
He claims his title and fights for his baby. Protects his wife.
Together they tell Dr death to go jump.
Together they leave, not sure what is left, what to expect.

Mercy prevails. grace abounds. Words they are yet to fully comprehend.
Why Me? is a question they will ask. Especially on the day she is born…
The nurses nickname her ‘Rosebud’. Beautiful, so perfectly formed.
Fearfully and wonderfully made.

And two more people are born that day – as parents in love.
Why me? Molly looks up and wants to know. Who’s there?

A gift from heaven. A gift of grace. Of mercy undeserved.
Creator & Author. A plan and purpose. I wait for you. I came for you.
For you Molly & fatherhubby. For Rosebud. For all mankind.
A redemption plan of love.

I am not Molly,  I am Rosebud… and this is my story too!
Molly is the mom that loved me, with my dad. God is the one who purposed and protected me on that day and every day that I breathe. Dr death-with-a-little-d, you were usurped. In the end God wins. ALWAYS!

I am meant to be alive. No mistake.
My journey, the joy, the pain. It’s no surprise to God.
You made me God and you love me. It is everything to know your love and to be known by you…. and forever I want to THANK YOU, for giving me parents who loved me too, for allowing them to find you and to raise me in your ways. For giving them a second chance. For bringing along my beloved man of a husband. For showing us all your heart… and changing ours.

So…….. I have no scars from that nearly valentines day 3 and a half decades ago. Because I never doubted the love. I couldn’t. Not whilst growing up and not even as I wait.

Psalm 139: 13-16
For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.




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