He Would Carry Me
By an anonymous St. Max Parishioner
Around 35 weeks pregnant, I felt something dark try to take a hold of me. I suddenly became out of control, all I could think about was death and terrible things happening, and how I wanted the baby inside of me out. I loved this baby very much, but I wanted to protect him from what was happening inside my mind. My thoughts were racing and my emotions were out of control. I started having panic attacks. I left my husband and my older children, got into my car, and started to drive. I was bawling, fighting these awful intrusive thoughts inside me. I wanted to go to the hospital. I knew the baby inside me was old enough to live outside of my body, and then he would be safe from me. I blamed pregnancy hormones and prenatal anxiety. I blamed the pandemic. I blamed our divided nation. I blamed a lack of support from family and friends. Yet I knew deep down what this really was: I was under spiritual attack. I knew I needed Jesus. Not simply to pray, but to be in the true presence of Jesus.
In the Spring of 2020 the world was a mess. My house was a mess. My marriage was a mess. My mind was a mess. So it came as a complete shock when we found out we were pregnant with another child. My husband and I had been fighting daily. With a threat of job loss, suddenly homeschooling our children, not being allowed to leave our house, fighting among our friends and families, feeling terrified by all the messages the world was giving us- I had no idea how we managed to conceive a child. But I know that NFP doesn’t fail; God prevails. This child was absolutely a gift from God, and there was no doubt in my mind God had a very big plan for us.
My pregnancy was considered normal medically, but it was anything but normal to me. How could it have been during a global pandemic? As I got closer to my due date, my mind became less and less my own. Panic attacks consumed me. I wasn’t sleeping. I was afraid of everything. My faith had been strong to this point, how could I have become this way?
The day I hit rock bottom and left my house crying out for God. I turned my phone off so my husband couldn't find me or stop me. I planned on going to a hospital. I knew they could deliver the baby early, and he would be ok even if I was not. The baby would be safe with doctors, and if I became too erratic, the only person I could harm was myself.
But The power that Jesus had over me was stronger than any attack on me. I knew deep down that I was not going to end my life. I knew that if I clung to Jesus, He would carry me. So I sought him out. I drove to the nearest Catholic Church. It was around dinner time, yet the doors to the church were locked. I tried the adoration chapel on the side. Also locked. I was so close to Jesus, yet I still felt so far. I laid down on the concrete and cried. But God gave me strength again. I got back in the car to drive to another church. Many churches were closed and had limited hours due to the pandemic, but not St. Max. I opened the unlocked doors, and knelt down in the chapel and felt the Lord’s presence wash over me. I know I’ve had this feeling before when crying, but I again felt Jesus wrap His arms around me. I cried. I prayed. I rested. And Then I went home.
I was rejuvenated, but the battle wasn’t over. I still had to finish this pregnancy journey and fight these attacks. Being with Jesus was like putting on another layer of armor while He took over the battle. I was weak, but I wasn’t fighting alone. The spiritual attack raged on, even after giving birth. But One morning, I knelt down in my kitchen with my beautiful baby boy. I looked out the window, and I begged God to rescue me. I told God I am surrendering the fight and giving it all to Him. God showed up right there in front of my kitchen sink. The sun shone through the window. I stood up, I took a deep breath, and my head was full of peace. I slept for the first time in weeks that night. My God came and rescued me, just like I knew He would.
Our family is currently thriving and that little baby boy is now the life of our house. We remain open to growing our family even more, yet the fear of these struggles happening again is very real. I know if I am blessed with another pregnancy, I will not fight any battles alone. God doesn’t lose battles, and I have a beautiful church family to support me as well. God bless St. Max for never closing its doors. I will never doubt the true presence of Jesus in our tabernacle nor His power to fight any battle.