Where did I leave you? I think I was doing some nervous overthinking in the middle of the night.

As I lay there after writing the blog I felt a sense of peace return. I knew in my heart that, for whatever reason, God wanted me to go into hospital and I could trust that he would take care of everything, all I had to do was surrender to his will. By this stage I was so uncomfortable that a guaranteed end to pregnancy was highly appealing!

I got up after just a couple of hours sleep (not ideal for labour day) and set about preparing for the big day. I figured if I kept moving I might move things along a bit further, enabling them to break my waters to trigger active labour.

We got some bolognese in the slow cooker, changed some sheets ready for Super Nana and Super Papa to stay and I packed my bag. As we had prepared for a homebirth my packing skills were somewhat inadequate, as I discovered later when I realised I had not packed a nightshirt and thus spent my labour semi clad! On returning home I found said nightshirt on the banister ready to pack, a little late by then 🤪.

Phil and I had a phone call with the fantastic consultant midwife who promised us a private room throughout and the guarantee that Phil would not have to leave my side. We arranged to arrive by 11.30 and in reasonable calmness (I was still having irregular contractions) we were on our way.

Phil and I rarely get any time alone during the day and the thought of lunch out first wistfully crossed my mind, but another contraction soon but us back on course!

By the grace of God I was actually feeling quite excited, despite normally being very nervous in any medical establishment. We were shown to our room, shown the facilities and were offered tea, biscuits and sandwiches. Was I mistaken, was I actually a princess who was having her baby in a posh private facility or was this just the only way Phil and I could get a night away just the two of us?!

The midwives were fantastic and throughout, offered us options without pressure, explained everything and honoured our choices at every point. God was really taking care of us.

It was decided that the doctor would come in around 3pm to see if they could break my forewaters. Around 2pm I decided to walk around and try and get things moving. By 2.30 I was needing gas and air and from that point on until birth I barely came up for air. The pain was intense and the pressure (down below) was enormous. When the doctor came in I apparently wouldn’t let her near me. It was around this time that Phil heard me saying that Jesus was here and he was beautiful. Poor Phil didn’t know whether to be delighted at my evangelism efforts, overjoyed that I was having an experience with the Lord or scared that I was heading in the wrong direction. When I reflect on that moment it felt as though I was completely broken and God was pouring himself into me. The pain was a gift and an opportunity to share a little in the sufferings of Christ.

It was 5.15pm when Phil spotted a moment of calm and suggested now might be the moment to break those waters. The midwife confirmed I was still only 2cm! I had been at 2cm for 6 days and after all that pain had seemingly made no progress. Phil was so confused and powerless, I feel really bad that he had to watch me suffer. Anyway they managed to break my waters, ooh it felt so good! The pressure was hugely relieved and I just kept telling the midwife how much I loved her😂.

The contractions ramped up again and with my dignity now gone, as the waters had gone all over my dress, I continued on. I didn’t know at what point Phil had undressed me until the next day, as I was not really engaging with the world.

Things carried on with no obvious change. Around 7pm Phil was concerned that things weren’t obviously changing and wanted them to start me on a hormone drip to help me dilate, but they said that would have to wait until 9.15, as they like to give it 4 hours for the breaking of waters to take effect. So once again he just had to watch and wait. I don’t know who it was worse for, Phil or me?

It was about 7.50 pm when things changed. I started shaking uncontrollably and saying that I couldn’t cope and I needed more pain relief. I was hoping this was transition, but none of us really knew as I hadn’t been examined since I was 2cm and I was in too much pain to even listen to a midwife now. Apparently the midwives had been writing notes to Phil in order to give me the silence I needed. At one point the consultant midwife had come in and asked Phil to encourage me to breathe some fresh air. He said she should try as he didn’t fancy trying! In the end he got me to breathe briefly without the gas and air!

With me writhing on the bed and feeling entirely desperate for relief, my IPad rang with a Skype call. Phil knew that my only Skype contact was my dear prayer partner Jennifer. Jennifer and I have been praying together every Wednesday night for 7 years. We pray for our children, our husbands and over all our motherly needs, these prayers have carried us both through our mothering journeys. We had missed our normal Wednesday slot because she had been on holiday. We had arranged this Friday slot about 3 weeks before, as she wanted to pray with me before the baby was born. Phil dived for the Ipad and gave Jennifer a quick update telling her that I really needed her now! Hers was the only voice I had listened to for hours. I was so used to hearing her voice praying for me that it was the most natural thing. I told her I couldn’t do it anymore and she told me I could. I heard her asking Jesus to help me and that was all I needed to hear, God did the rest. It was just a few minutes later that after 6 days and nearly 6 hours Phil and the midwife finally saw our baby’s head, 4 minutes later he was born. Phil tells me that he can never repay Jennifer for her prayers and will be forever grateful to God for intervening in a miraculous way.

Our little one’s head was born into Daddy’s hands, the midwife uncoiled the cord, which was wrapped twice around the neck and baby was delivered into Phil’s waiting arms. Phil laid our little one onto my tummy and asked me whether we had a boy or a girl. I couldn’t open my eyes due to being so overwhelmed, but I felt between the legs and discovered God had blessed us with a son! We immediately welcomed Timothy Noah and put him to the breast.

I hoped that would be the end of the story but with the placenta still to come we weren’t done yet. I continued to have painful contractions but managed to deliver the placenta naturally. Blood was still trickling though and so I asked for Syntometrin to try and stop the bleeding. It still wouldn’t stop and so the midwife called a doctor who proceeded to scoop blood clots out of my womb, it was a huge relief when they were all gone and finally it was all over.

I was still shaking. I needed to sit up to have a drink, upon doing so I repeatedly vomited everywhere. I sat back, unable to do anymore. Timothy fed and I rested. My blood pressure was low and I felt rough. It was about 4 hours later that I suddenly announced to Phil that I felt much better, I’d clearly turned a corner. By 4 am I was starving and I ate a giant pile of cheese sandwiches and several Bourbon biscuits, oh my did that all taste wonderful!

Once my blood pressure had picked up and Timothy had completed a night of observations we were ready to head home. After being brought breakfast in bed and after a shower I felt ready to face the cacophony of noise that is the Goldby household. We arrived home to smiles, hugs and a huge amount of enthusiasm from an army of siblings who were ready to protect and love their little brother.

The blessings go on as we enjoy our babymoon, albeit disturbed by constant requests for hugs with their new baby brother.

We always prayed that if God wanted me in hospital for this birth then he would have to make it clear. He certainly did that and I was so grateful to be cared for so lovingly and to be given the space to labour without the pressure from little voices asking if I was done yet! Our home is full of fun but perhaps not conducive to a labouring woman’s need for silence and time. God went to extraordinary lengths to give Phil and I a night away 😊 and an opportunity to have a few short hours to marvel at our new gift.

Sending blessings to you all, Vicki

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I wrote this in the early hours of Friday morning. Since then we have welcomed our new blessing into our home. I want to tell the story as it happened, so I have chosen to put this post up first. I’ll try and get the rest of the story written up as soon as I have the brain space….

It’s the middle of the night, that time when thoughts and worries can run away with us. What’s keeping me up tonight?

For the past six days my body has been trying to go into labour. I’ve been having frequent, fairly painful contractions, but no real shift towards established labour. Yesterday it was confirmed that my hindwaters had gone, but still no progress. Today we are waiting. If I don’t go into active labour by this afternoon, I will be encouraged to go into hospital to be induced.

I’ve never been induced before, so this would be a step into the unknown. It feels as though God is stretching my faith, my experience and my trust in him.

I have a huge heart for mothers whose births don’t go as planned and struggle with trauma related to that. I would love, in the future, to support these mums, perhaps as a birth doula? Maybe I will be better equipped to serve them if I walked a day in their shoes?

It’s what God does best, he takes the problems we have and turns them for good. ‘And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.’ Romans 8:28.

When writing this blog post a story came to mind, I don’t know if I’ve shared it before, but it soothed my heart and I trust it will speak to others too.

Many years ago Phil climbed Kilimanjaro. The night of his final ascent began. With head torches lighting the path ahead of them they scrambled towards the summit, on and on, step by precarious step, with no knowledge of what was to their left or to their right. With precision timing, that only their experienced sherpa could have planned, they reached the top as dawn broke. The view was indeed breathtaking, but there was one part of Phil’s retelling that really stuck with me. As he looked behind him at the path he had navigated in the dark he could see ice and dangerous precipices on either side. If he had known of these dangers he may have been afraid, maybe turned back or frozen in fear? Thankfully all he had was the light on the path just ahead of him, enough to take just one more step and trust that his sherpa knew the best path to take.

It’s all any of us really need, just enough light to take one more step. I’m so grateful to God that only he sees the bigger picture, as I’m sure it would terrify me. When we follow God, even in the darkness, we can be sure that we will not stumble, for his light will guide us, for he is the ultimate sherpa.

Today we are looking to him for guidance. We don’t know what’s best, but God does and we trust that he will go before us and show us the best path to take.

I pray that today God will guide us and bring us peace as we step out and trust in him. I pray that God will be glorified through this birth and that we will have a good outcome. Part 2 to follow….

Sending blessings to you all, Vicki

Waiting’s hard, whether it be waiting for a bus, a letter, important news or in my case waiting for a newborn to arrive.

Can we wait well? Can we learn and grow in the waiting room of life? In the Bible we read of Anna and Simeon. Anna was a very old lady waiting at the temple for the Saviour to arrive. She was a great example of waiting well. She served at the temple and wasted no time, serving her Master each day, even before she saw his newborn face.

Our beloved Queen waited well. She has now gone to be with her Saviour, but whilst she waited for that day to arrive she served, right to the end. There we find a lesson for us all.

Whilst Jesus waited for the cross, he prayed and served. Here I learn my greatest lesson. If I am to wait well for this tiny new arrival, I must learn to pray and to serve. I may be physically exhausted and that can lead me to impatience, but I know the sweetness in waiting isn’t found in impatience, it’s found in hope and anticipation.

Several babies ago I was eagerly and impatiently awaiting the arrival of one of our children, when the Lord gave me a word to hold onto. A song ran through my head all day, ‘All Creation’s Waiting on Tiptoe just to See’. I googled it in the hope of understanding whether God might be saying something to me. I discovered the song was based on Scripture, “For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed.” Romans‬ ‭8:19‬.

I had a picture in my mind of all the angels lined up as supporters in a marathon, waiting for my little one’s arrival. I could feel their excitement, their certainty that the arrival was imminent and worth every moment of waiting. As I read on it spoke of creation groaning as in the pains of childbirth. Wow! I felt goosebumps rising up my arm as I acknowledged the fact that the song had indeed come from God and he was encouraging me to wait well.

Oh the sweetness that came in that moment as I too shared in the angels’ excitement. Just around the corner a new life was approaching, a new person with plans laid down from their Father before the creation of the earth.

Today I hold onto those verses. Today the angels are again waiting with me as we excitedly, “hope for what we do not yet have,”Romans‬ ‭8:25‬.

Waiting no longer has the same tedious sense of longing, but is filled with a certainty, an excitement, a knowledge that God has a good gift for me and it will come at exactly the right moment.

I’m 37 weeks pregnant now and beginning to have irregular, but increasing contractions. I anticipate this could go on for a few weeks, as it has done before, but with each contraction my body and mind are preparing for the journey ahead.

Are you waiting for something today? I pray God will help you to wait well, to wait prayerfully and that he may encourage you whilst you wait for his perfect timing to unfold.

Sending blessings to you all, both near and far.

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I woke up a couple of Sundays ago to the ear piercing screams of a fully blown tantrum outside my bedroom door. I used to wake to an alarm clock, never pleasant, but necessary. Generally my mornings are slow and the children relatively content, but this particular Sunday morning was not to be so. A small Goldby was complaining loudly about our lack of yoghurt. I kid you not, but natural yoghurt was the cause of this cacophony. Our small child was devastated that their choice of breakfast was compromised by our lack of shopping. There were multiple other suggestions made, in an attempt to pacify the wailing, but all in vain, it seemed that yoghurt was the only solution. Whilst this particular scene was playing out another smallish Goldby entered stage left and with equally loud siren-like wails and declared that they had been bitten by a slightly older sibling. Seriously, this was not a good, or common start to the day. Comfort was provided and the perpetrator of the bite questioned over their motives for this unusual behaviour. I was just beginning to recover from this early morning assault on my senses when crisis number three was presented to me. One of our older children was being obstreperous and was refusing to consume any of our delightful breakfast offerings. At this point I made it loud and clear to anyone listening that I was to be left alone as my morning had not got off to a good start.

I withdrew under the bed clothes, hoping that when I came out all would be well and the last 15 minutes had just been an early morning bad dream. Sadly it soon became evident from the noises downstairs that all was not well and moods had not improved. Closing my weary eyes I sent up an arrow prayer. I asked God how I was to keep going for another 20 years. 20 years ago I started my mothering journey and it has been often wearying, sometimes worrying but unquestionably wonderful. I’m now older, a little wiser, but I am going back in some ways to the beginning. Our new little blessing is due in less than 2 months and so I must start again. Where will I find the energy, the inner resources and the strength to keep on? God whispered in his still small voice, ‘Vicki, this is a marathon, not a sprint’. I knew it was Him who had put that thought in my mind and so I mulled it over, Googling how to prepare for a marathon.

Soon enough the noises from downstairs grew louder and I knew bed could no longer hide me. I dressed myself and the little ones, brushed multiple sets of teeth and we prepared to drive to church. At this point disaster number four showed up, the bus had a flat tyre. Phil thought he could pump it up, as he had done before, but it became clear the hole was just too big. So we decided to go to church in two runs, using the little car.

Phil left Jonathan with some little ones at church and returned for the rest of us. In the car on the way down (now really late) I spoke to Phil about my morning and the word from God about motherhood being a marathon. I said that I just needed to hear something at church about running a race. We squeezed in at the back of church, in the hope of not disturbing the service. We were just in time for the sermon to begin. On the screen came up the topic of today’s sermon, ‘Running the Race’! I had no idea this was the planned talk, but clearly God knew what I needed to to hear. Goosebumps ran up my spine and tears welled in my eyes as I realised that I really had heard from God and he really had seen my rubbish morning and he really did care about my struggles. Oh what a wonderful God we serve!

The sermon was much better than my Google search and told me exactly how to run this marathon. I was to rely on Jesus to be my refreshments provider, my paramedic, my trainer, the one who would show me the way, He would provide everything I would need, I simply have to keep my eyes on Him.

It sounds so simple and yet I still struggle to obey in this area. I find it easier to look at my fears, to look at Google, to look at the world and seek answers from these places. When I finally remember to seek God I realise I am so dry that I really need Him to be my paramedic. He is so good though and He picks my up, feeds me with His Word, provides me with water that won’t run out and strengthens me with His joy.

I can run this marathon, we all can, we just need to look to Jesus, He is all we need. motherhood is a marathon, especially when raising a large family, but the Christian journey is also a marathon. We will always have struggles, whether that’s with children, spouses, loneliness, work, illness or a hundred other unknown challenges, but Jesus will help us through, we just need to ask Him.

‘Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.’ Hebrews 12:1

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This phrase came to mind as I walked around my home experiencing reminders of life beneath my feet and a new life within. My mind whirled with the extra sensitivity that bare feet and pregnancy bring. Much like the old Tom and Jerry cartoons, there are two voices that play in our heads, the good voice and the bad, which one do we listen to?

Cold floor beneath my feet, Rice Krispies trodden in, Lego waiting for a careless step. Crisp, dry grass prickling my soles, pine cones thrown from catapults lying silent on the ground, dog sticks chewed to bits and plastic cups forgotten.

My feet feel life, real, raw, each item recalls a memory, a moment in time when life happened. Children enjoyed breakfast, played with toys, the hot sun scorched the already parched grass, our son created a homemade catapult and used pine cones as ammunition, the dog was quiet and calm for once chewing on his stick and the cup brings back memories of a summer barbecue for our church, a souvenir of sweet fellowship. Each crunch or ouch beneath my toes could be grumbled at or marvelled at, it’s all about attitude. Most days I choose joy. Those are the good days.

My belly shifts, pokes and jabs, each movement a reminder of the life within. Stomach sick from being squashed, muscles ache from extra work, back twingeing as I bend to pick up Lego, dizzy head as blood pressure drops, bladder under pressure. Body weary, eyes sore from tiredness, ferocious hunger followed by nauseous regret, restless sleep as heat takes its toll.

My mobile middle a sweet reminder of a little one thriving. Limited food capacity and a troubled bladder, a great sign that our blessing is growing bigger by the day. Low blood pressure is always welcomed by the midwives, the side effects a reminder to slow down. Exhaustion pushes me to sleep, to accommodate the needs of our new gift, to put them to the front of my mind and prioritise their needs and mine.

It’s all about attitude, when I choose joy it comes, but if I choose to grumble the negativity feeds off itself and nourishes the black dog. I’ve been there, my hormones take me there, my circumstances take me there, my sinful soul chooses to grumble, but the Spirit within whispers joy and gratitude. When I shut out the loud shouts of my sinful self I hear the still small voice of God whispering, telling me of his gift, his help, his joy, reminding me to be thankful in all circumstances, then slowly, very slowly I pull the black curtains of self-pity back and discover the light that lies beyond. For in every situation there is sorrow or joy to be found. I choose joy.

‘I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.’ Philippians 4 11-13.

Sending blessings to you all and praying that you find the joy of the Lord today.

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Father’s Day this year will be bittersweet. I am delighted to share it with Phil, thanking God for the amazing dad he is. We’ll eat yummy food, share cards and make him lots of cups of tea. Marzipan will feature highly, as that’s his favourite, along with lots of hugs. Phil is everything a father should be, loving, patient, kind and a great example to us all of a faithful man living out his God-given calling of fatherhood.

I’ll reflect on the amazing gift of a relationship with my Heavenly Father. He is steadfast, merciful and ever loving. Without my Heavenly Father I couldn’t do what I do, I would just be a shell. I know there have been many times when the Devil has whispered in my ear how I’m not worth it, I should just be invisible, it comes from a place of painful childhood memories, but then God….He tells me of His love for me, He tells me He created me, ‘For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb’ Psalm 139:13. He reminds me He had called me for a purpose and He tells me I am His masterpiece, ‘For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago’ Ephesians 2:10. He rescues me when I start to sink into that valley of lies which draws me in, the lies whispered in the darkness. I only have to turn to Him and He’s there.

This year I’ll give an extra prayer of thanks for my father-in-law. He’s a steady, faithful man who loves me as his own and continues to support us as a family.

This year will throw up strange emotions. Never have I had a Father’s Day without Dad. Earlier this week I realised it was Father’s Day this Sunday, and after working out what we would do for Phil I started thinking what I should give Dad. Then I remembered. Dad’s not here, he doesn’t need a present, a card, a phone call or a visit. He’s happier than ever, our Heavenly Father has him safely in His hands. Dad loved gifts, they were his love language. He had so much stuff I struggled to think of what other item of clutter I could bless him with! Whatever I bought he was happy though, he just loved to know I’d thought of him. He never let me forget a particular Father’s Day when I was four years old. I had told him, a few days before the day, that we had bought him a surprise pair of trousers! His gift may not have been a surprise when Father’s Day came round, but the humour of the gaff made him giggle for decades to come.

Losing a parent is never easy. The yearly celebrations always throw up memories, there are birthdays, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Christmas, Easter, the anniversary of their death. These days punctuate the year preventing me from ever completely letting go, burying the pain (I know that’s not right) and moving on. I can almost pretend most days that he’s still here. I sadly was rarely able to see him, but I knew he was only a phone call away. I often think to call him, when we have family news to share, and then I remember he’s no longer here. The realisation steals my breath, tears well, but I move forwards, grief hurts too much. I bury it before the pain consumes me and sucks me down. If I dwell on it I start to remember Mum too and then thoughts of childhood, painful memories, insecurities all surface. The children will see and ask questions, I don’t have the energy for gut wrenching tears, a shoulder shuddering snot fest of memories is not scheduled in my day and so I hold it and hand it to God.

How do you grieve when you’re busy? I’m not sure there’s a right way. I’ve been working through grief for 30 years and I’m no expert. I do know that God sees my pain and He heals.

This Father’s Day will be a celebration. We’ll spoil Phil and remind him how much he’s loved. I will remember that Dad is now at peace and I will focus on the joy of his last minute salvation. I’ll choose joy, as there is so much to be joyful about.

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This photo of Matthew and I was taken when I was 35.

I’ve had 3 babies in my 20s, 5 in my 30s and now I am pregnant with our 10th baby conceived in my mid 40s. Some of my pregnancies have been straightforward and some of them have been eclipsed by SPD, or more simply, pain and mobility issues.

At just 24 I found out I was pregnant with our first baby. It had taken a few months to conceive him and I had genuinely wondered if I would ever be able to conceive. During my teenage years I suffered with eating disorders and my periods were either absent or very irregular until I was 19. I wondered if I had damaged my body and would pay the price with my fertility. Thankfully God doesn’t delight in punishing us, but he does delight in giving us his gifts, ‘Behold, children are a gift of the LORD’. Psalm 127:3.

That first positive test was the start of the best journey of my life, a journey where God has grown me as he has encouraged me to lean into him and to trust him, even when it’s hard, to give me what he knows is best for me.

We never planned on having so many children. I had it all sorted, I would have four children with small gaps and then they could all grow up together and do the same sort of things at the same time. God had other ideas! After Christopher, which was a fairly easy pregnancy, we decided to have another and God blessed us with another boy, I was 27. I was so tired raising these 2 little men and thought I couldn’t do it again, but once I had lifted my head from the fog of sleep deprivation I thought maybe I could do it just once more.

At 29 I was pregnant again and fit and well, but with a few months I had become fairly immobile and I discovered I had a condition known as SPD (symphysis pubis disjunction). I found myself struggling to move more than a few steps without pain and spent much of the pregnancy sitting down reading stories and doing puzzles with 2 busy boys. In order for them to get exercise I would drive to the park and shuffle over to the park bench where I would sit whilst they climbed on the equipment. I asked my midwife for advice and was sent to the physio who gave me a belt to wear around my pelvis. This was of little comfort as my pelvis was so far out of alignment. At 39 weeks our first daughter came into the world with her hand by her head and the cord tight around her neck. I wondered if my misaligned pelvis caused her to settle in to a bad position, but praise God she was born safely.

At 31 we felt brave enough to try for one more baby, maybe we would be blessed with a sister for Madeleine, completing our family with 2 boys and 2 girls. After the pain of the previous pregnancy I had done some research into SPD and found that chiropractic adjustment may well be the key to a more mobile pregnancy.

Just 12 weeks into the next pregnancy I felt the pain in my bones as I pushed the pushchair to school (we were still doing the school run then). The more I pushed, the more it hurt, so I prayed. The Lord inspired a lovely neighbour to walk our boys to school each day, along with her children. I also started seeing a chiropractor and these 2 changes made a huge difference. I also used the belt I had been given in my last pregnancy and this time, with a realigned pelvis, it kept everything fairly stable. I was able to walk around the house pain free but after a couple of weeks I would find the pain would return and another adjustment was needed. The less I did physically, the less pain I would experience and so I learnt to parent from a sitting position whenever possible. I would gather the children into one room with me and sit on the sofa and read, chat, encourage, mediate disputes and play long imaginary games. Thankfully I didn’t go crazy and God’s grace got me through that season.

Elizabeth was born safely and thankfully without complication. My pelvis had been adjusted shortly before birth, allowing her to descend comfortably into an optimal birthing position. I continued to receive occasional adjustment from the chiropractor for the next year, as my pelvis still occasionally hurt, but at the end of that year I was fully recovered and we felt ready to consider opening our hearts to another blessing, but was that really a good idea?

How would my body handle another pregnancy? Were we being foolish? I just felt so convicted that God could be trusted. What was Phil thinking though? Surely he wanted to protect me from any further pain? He wrestled for some time between trusting God and trusting the wisdom of this world. He knew that, ‘the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God’, 1 Corinthians 3:19. God’s given us a mind though, shouldn’t we use it? These questions went through his head more than mine, as I tend to be fairly led by my emotions and Phil by his reasoning. I think if it had taken us months to conceive we may have both chickened out, but after an impetuous night we both found God had made up our minds for us.

After 2 pain filled pregnancies I really wondered what I had in store and I waited for the pain to kick in. And I waited and I waited. Nine months later I hadn’t felt a single twinge of discomfort and our 5th child, Matthew, was safely born without a moment of complication.

God was so kind. Matthew’s pregnancy was the first when we really trusted God and he made it so easy for us.

Stepping out again was easier this time after God had so graciously led us through our first big step of faith. Hannah’s pregnancy was a wake up call though, this was a tough one. From the moment I conceived until I gave birth I felt sick, tired and dizzy. My SPD didn’t rear it’s head again for several months, but then at 33 weeks it came on with gusto. I found myself unable to even walk to the toilet. Crawling up the stairs and using furniture to support myself, I made it round the house until I managed to get to the chiropractor’s. After the first appointment I was much better and fortnightly appointments got me through the final few weeks with minimal pain.

Now I was beginning to wonder why my body reacted so badly to some pregnancies and not to others? Was I prepared to go through that again, to take that risk? Somehow through the blurry mist of post natal anxiety, which hit me badly after Hannah’s birth, I started to see a way forward. Trusting God seemed the only path of sense. I knew that we could stop at any point, God would not condemn us, but that wasn’t the point. I wanted to go deeper, to find God in the suffering and not just avoid all pain. I didn’t delight in suffering but I knew God was using it to shape me and I felt compelled to go on discovering more of his will for my life. I was learning that God’s will is not always for my earthly comfort, but it is always for my good. If I could continue to surrender to his plans for me I might uncover the diamonds of his love, hidden in dark places. It’s often only it the darkness that we seek his light and I was beginning to understand that my weakness was the key to unlocking his strength.

So we stepped out again and God’s gift to us came in the form of Stephen, our bundle of fun and energy. Not for one day in his pregnancy did I feel unwell or in pain. At 39 weeks I danced the ceilidh, I was astounded to feel the power of God’s grace.

Michael soon followed, our 8th baby. His pregnancy was trouble free and without any SPD pain. I really didn’t know why my body was thriving, having struggled through several other pregnancies, but I was grateful for the reprieve.

Then came Katie, our ninth blessing. After an uneventful first and second trimester , the pain of SPD returned again at about 30 weeks. The chiropractor once again set me straight and helped me to stay mobile for the final few weeks. Katie arrived straight into Daddy’s arms in a beautiful speedy and unassisted home birth (the midwife didn’t make it in time).

And so, that brings us onto baby number ten. At 15 weeks I felt the first twinges of pain in my pelvis and then again and 18 weeks. By 20 weeks I decided that I needed to see a chiropractor, if I was going to stay mobile. So far so good, the pain has settled and I’m still walking, although I’m consciously taking care to treat my body with care and long walks are definitely out of the question.

It seems to be the case that up until now, all my ‘SPD pregnancies’ have been the girls. Will this be another girl? We’ll have to wait and see, as I don’t ever find until birth, it will be a surprise for us too.

Looking back it seems that the challenges I’ve had with pregnancy haven’t really been age related. I’ve had one hard pregnancy at 29, and yet an easy one at 39. It appears that my discomforts may be hormone related, as the girl pregnancies seem to have been more difficult that the boys.

At 44 I now have more willing and capable helpers and so my job is less physical than it was even 5 years ago. Now my job seems to involve more emotional support, as I learn to raise teenagers. These teens are happy to help be clean up or cook or play with a sibling, but they also need me to help them sort through their emotions and to be there as a listening ear. Thankfully I can do all that whilst pregnant, although sometimes I get overwhelmed with so many people’s feelings and I have to go and off load onto God’s broad shoulders.

Teenage emotions are still a new challenge for me, and I actively seek out the advice of other wiser people. I do though have lots of experience with SPD in pregnancy and so I have put together a few ideas for those who are suffering, as I just want to offer some hope. No two pregnancies are the same and even when pain bites there are solutions. My top tips are:

Sleep with a thin pillow between your legs.

Get in and out of bed and the car with two legs together.

See a chiropractor and then wear a support belt .

Don’t cross your legs.

Rest as much as possible.

Remember this is just for a season and your baby will soon be here and the pain will be worth it.

SPD is a fairly hidden and misunderstood pregnancy condition. I have sadly found little support from GPs or even midwives, who seem to offer paracetamol and exercise sheets, which are of little help. please don’t suffer in silence, there are solutions. Please drop me a comment if I can be of any help, even if it’s just for prayer.

I am so grateful that I didn’t stop having babies at the end of my 20s, when SPD first reared its ugly head. I’m grateful for God’s grace, the help of friends and the wise counsel of women who have walked this path before me. I also give thanks that this is not a life threatening condition, it is harmless for the baby and it will pass.

I’ll try and keep up to date on the blog and let you know a bit more about the animals and vegetables growing, not just the growing baby!

In the meantime, sending blessings to you all.

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The day was cold and dry, much as any other winter’s day. The children were playing downstairs, but upstairs by emotions were churning as I realised that my cycle was due, but there were no signs of its arrival. I had a pack of pregnancy tests idling quietly in my bedside drawer, I dithered over whether to use one. I was startlingly aware of my increasing age and the likelihood that at 44 any pregnancy might end quickly, should I therefore even bother to find out? Should I wait a week and just see what happened? It would hurt less if I lost a baby before I even knew they were there. I wanted to protect my heart, but I also wanted to know, had God blessed us, even just for an hour or a day?

With trepidation I used the familiar test and then waited, not really believing that I would see even a hint of 2 pink lines. But there they were staring me in the face, filling me with an awareness of what could be ahead. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, but mostly I was in denial. I struggled to believe the test was even working. So I took 2 more! After 3 positives I hesitantly crept into Phil’s office with my test hidden from view. Waiting quietly for him to finish his call I pondered over the news I had just received. We’ve been here nine times before, in our experience a positive test has led to breathtaking births, tempestuous toddlers and turbulent teens. Would Phil be delighted, or had we both moved on, a new home and a new chapter? I placed the test before his eyes and stood back examining his face for his first response. A grin spread widely across his face, he had no fears, ever the optimist, he beamed with the certain knowledge that God had chosen once again to bless us with an eternal gift.

I spent the next few weeks checking every time I used the bathroom, thinking the worst may well come. I’d swallowed the world’s negativity surrounding older motherhood and failed to remember the God who had given Elizabeth and Sarah babies when they were far older than me. After about 8 weeks I started to accept that one way or another I was going to give birth to this little one, maybe it would be imminent, or maybe I would be blessed beyond measure and carry this tiny gift to term. The fear of miscarriage hovered over my head, fearing haemorrhaging, as a friend had at 7 weeks, and knowing we now lived 40 minutes from the hospital. I had to find peace and that came through trusting the One who had placed this little baby in my womb, knowing exactly where we live and our circumstances. Slowly I started to embrace the joy of our blessing.

By 11 weeks my belly was beginning to swell and one of the children pointed out my increasing girth. This seemed the moment to pull together a family meeting to share the news. The following night we gathered the children around the table and I presented each child with an envelope containing a letter. Each child curiously opened their envelope and pulled out the contents laying them on the table, creating a random word ‘nbobtyean’. I encouraged them to rearrange them to create a word which would solve the mystery. They soon discovered the secret we had been keeping for so many weeks, as they saw they letters before them stating, ‘baby no. 10’. Their reactions were priceless. Each one of them was delighted but it was Christopher’s response which will stay strongest in my memory. My tough farmer boy, my eldest, the one who has heard this news more than any of our other children, didn’t respond with the nonchalance others may show, but with tears of joy. His reaction was so precious, his obvious delight and his joy when he exclaimed that he would be the eldest of ten siblings!

My cautious fears rose to the surface again as I became aware that if anything happened to this tiny child it wouldn’t just be my heart which would break, but my children’s too. Maybe my fears stem from the pain I felt when I lost Mum at 14, I don’t know, but I do have a tendency to wrap my heart in cotton wool to protect it from pain. I also never want to cause my children pain and yet, this wasn’t just my choice, this wasn’t just Phil’s and my will, this was a gift from God for all of us. I determined again to put my trust in God and to not focus on my fears.

Weeks passed and I started to feel tiny flutters. Along with my ever increasing size I began to grow in confidence. Without the reassurance of a scan I was evermore dependent on God to give me the peace that I needed.

We have chosen, with the last few pregnancies, not to have scans until nearer the end. Having met many women who were given doom-filled predictions about their baby during scans, who then went on to have healthy babies, I felt convicted to leave knowledge of this little one in the Lord’s hands, as He is the One who is, ‘knitting them together in the secret place’.

And so we wait…I grow…and I learn to trust. Today I am twenty weeks into this journey, a huge milestone to cross, halfway there. I’m finding joy in the little kicks and sharing those movements with our children. Do I still fear? Not often anymore, I am at peace, that is, until I look at Google! What have I learnt? God has reminded me that he is sovereign over all things, including the development of our baby, my health, the birth, the spacing of our children and the world we will bring them into. I could fear, but I choose faith and faith brings hope and in hope we find peace and joy.

Will this be our ‘quiverfull’? We’ll have to wait and see what God has planned. I once heard a phrase which really stuck with me, it said, ‘God gives the best to those who leave the choice to him’, it’s not easy trusting, but it’s worth every moment.

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Blessings, Vicki