In early December 1983, I was sitting on the couch relaxing when I heard the phone ring. I got up and went into the kitchen to answer it. “Hello” . . . and on the other end of the phone line was “Hello, may I speak with Jamie?” “Speaking.” “Jamie, this is Paul. You know, Paul Hamilton from Windermere!” When I heard his voice, I had a mixture of emotions. It was so good to hear from a dear Christian friend, yet my mind immediately went into a state of panic and embarrassment. What should I say? Should I be honest and transparent or conceal the ugly truth about my current situation? As I contemplated all my internal questioning, I thought the best way to deflect the conversation away from my life was to ask him all about his life. He told me about his time at college and the friends he had made there. He said he was sitting in his dorm room and felt prompted to call me because he hadn’t heard from me in a while. I went on to ask him about his family, his church, his love life . . . anything to avoid a conversation about me. Finally, the unavoidable inquiry came through the phone, “So, how have you been?”. At first, I gave those typical vague answers. “I’m doing ok. Just hanging around”. Then, there was that awkward time of silence. Finally, I just said it. It was as though my mind shut down, but my lips began to move. “Well, I don’t know how to say this to you, so I’ll just say it the only way I know how to . . . I’m pregnant, Paul.” I must admit, I don’t recall his immediate reaction, but I was relieved he didn’t hang up on me! In fact, he acted very compassionately and kindly toward me. He never pressured me to talk about the specifics of what happened; he just cared for me. We talked a bit about our mutual friend Pat and all that transpired around the end of our relationship. As we neared the end of our conversation, Paul told me that he was planning on driving back to St. Louis from college for the upcoming weekend. He asked me how I would feel about meeting up with him. I definitely felt some reservations, but I agreed.
We decided to meet up at a local Dairy Queen restaurant. Despite time and everything that had happened in our lives, our friendship was just as vibrant as it had been at Windermere. Paul had always been easy to talk to, and this time was no different. I eventually opened up to him about all that had transpired between Mark and myself. He was never judgemental and had nothing but deep care and concern for me. Paul also opened up and shared some of the struggles he was having with college life. It was a wonderful evening together, encouraging one another and reminiscing about the past. As we parted ways, we committed to stay in contact with each other. After Paul got back to college, we would communicate with each other via the phone and written letters. Before long, the Christmas season was fast approaching, and Paul came home for his holiday break. We talked on the phone and met up numerous times while he was back in St. Louis. We were both feeling an increasing attraction for one another that seemed to go beyond friendship. I was a little skittish about pursuing anything too serious because any decision I made now must include a child. At times, this reality scared me. Fear often took residency inside of my heart because I felt that no Godly man would ever want to marry a woman with a child. Regardless of my future relationships, this child inside of me came first. When the rubber hit the road, and I focused my attention solely on God, I believed that He had a beautiful plan for my life. I just needed to trust Him.
The church I was attending was hosting a Valentine’s banquet. I decided to contact Paul and ask him if he wanted to attend. He agreed to attend. We had a wonderful time together. As the baby’s due date was getting closer and closer, the seriousness of our relationship began to be questioned. Paul began to express to me that he was only 19 years old, still in college, and was not ready to be a husband, let alone a father. As weird as it was, I wasn’t really hurt by his sudden withdrawal from the relationship. I realized that we were in different seasons of life, and that was okay. God had a plan for his life, and God had a plan for my life. We needed to pursue the journeys that God had before us and cherish our friendship. As time went by, our conversations became less and less. I would be lying if I stated it didn’t hurt, but the truth was that God’s timing was not my timing. Paul was trying to figure out his future plans concerning college, and I was focused on being a young new mom.
In March 1984, my church family organized one of the biggest baby showers ever. The fellowship hall area of the church building was filled with people I knew, but there were also people there that I did not know. Among the guests I knew were church friends, church staff, school friends, family, and even fellow YMCA employees. Even though I struggled with shame off and on during my entire pregnancy, there was no shame allowed at the baby shower. The people that attended were such a blessing and encouragement to me. I felt so undeserving of such love and grace. I went home that day with more things to care for a baby than I ever thought I would need. My due date was in April, and the shower helped so much with the setting up of the nursery area. The baby and I were going to share my bedroom. With the help of my parents, we decided to paint the room a color that would tie together the baby’s bed with my bed and furniture. My father repurposed an old chest of drawers and built a custom changing table. This piece of furniture was a really special gift. In addition to everything, I had a special friend from church purchase complimentary fabric along with all the notions so that I could sew an ensemble of baby bedding – skirting, bumper pads, quilt, and sheets. With a little help from my mom, it all turned out perfectly. Before long, I was ready for the big event. God had been faithful. He had provided everything I needed and even some things that I wanted, ready to welcome a baby into this world.
The two weeks prior to my due date were stressful. I visited the hospital three times, thinking I was in labor. Each time, the labor and delivery doctor would send me home. I was so frustrated. I actually remember showing up the third time in two weeks and being told: “Not yet.” I lay in the hospital bed, totally embarrassed. Out of deep frustration, I cried and told them I wasn’t leaving until I had my baby! A labor and delivery nurse came into the room and talked with me. She was so compassionate and encouraging. She told me my experience was not abnormal, especially for new mothers. With a softhearted voice, she said, “I promise, you will KNOW when these contractions are the REAL thing.” With a broken spirit, I picked myself up, and headed home, wondering if I would be pregnant for the rest of my life. Early the following Saturday morning, April 21st, I was awakened by what seemed to be unusually uncomfortable contractions. Having visited the hospital in the last two weeks, three different times, I wasn’t about to humiliate myself again with another visit. I laid in bed from about 4 am until 8 am, experiencing “attention-getting” contractions. After some time, I reluctantly told my mother. She inquired whether I had been timing them, and I had. They were about 6 minutes apart. Not to be embarrassed again, I called the hospital and asked if I should come in. The nurse on call told me to come in if they lasted more than a minute and were 5 minutes apart. After talking to the hospital, I contacted my friend, Debbie, who was going to be with me during labor and delivery. The decision was made that she would meet me at the hospital if I decided to go. As the morning continued on, so did the contractions. The intensity, duration, and frequency pointed toward the real thing. At about 11 am, the decision was made to head to the hospital. As my mom drove me to the hospital, I was experiencing an array of emotions. I was cautiously excited, and yet, I was so nervous. I had never been through this, and doubt began to creep in, questioning my ability to care for a baby. In one ear, I heard the enemy mocking me, that I had made the worst mistake of my life and would fail as a parent. In the other ear, well, I heard the gentle, peace-filled voice of the Holy Spirit, bringing much-needed hope and encouragement. I knew what voice to listen to! I finally arrived at the hospital around noon. After an examination, I was relieved to learn that I wouldn’t be sent home. I was already 6 cm dilated, and I was well on my way to having my baby. After getting settled in my labor and delivery room, my friend Debbie showed up. She was going to serve as my delivery coach. We had attended prenatal classes together, so we both felt well-prepared for this event. The next 4 hours of labor were intense, but I was blessed to have such a wonderful Christian friend by my side, helping me navigate all that was happening. With very little pain medication, I gave birth to a beautifully magnificent baby girl at 4:31 pm ON her due date. There were no words to describe the utter joy I felt holding my daughter for the first time. Following the delivery, my daughter was taken to the newborn nursery, and I was moved to the “New Moms” floor. As I was being wheeled into my room, I realized that I was going to have a roommate – another new mom who had given birth shortly before me. She was a nice woman, definitely older than myself, and married. As I got settled in the room, we chatted for a while, and then the privacy curtain between us was pulled shut. A short time later, a nurse from the newborn nursery brought our babies to us. This was the first time I was able to spend alone time with my daughter. I lay in the bed holding my daughter, only to find myself weeping at the miracle that God had brought out of such a seemingly horrible situation. As I stared into her sweet face, I was overcome with feelings of thankfulness. As the two of us continued to spend time with each other, I began to hear the husband and wife next door loving on their new baby. If you have been a follower of Jesus for any length of time, you quickly realize that even though Jesus has won the war, Satan always wants to wage a battle – a battle in your mind. As I heard the new parents next to me talking to their baby, a loud scream entered my ear, reminding me that I was in this mess by myself and I was a failure. I had no husband or helper, and I never would. His voice was almost deafening, and I began to cry softly so as not to bring attention to myself. I was tired, weak, vulnerable, and alone. All I knew to do was to reach out to Jesus and quietly pray as I held my beautiful new baby. As the visiting hours had ended for the day, into the room walked my dad with a big arrangement of flowers. I was so surprised! He looked at me and said he loved me too much to see me alone. That moment in time meant more to me than anyone could ever imagine. I took my beautiful daughter and placed her in her grandfather’s arms. My father cried with such joy and pride. We spent about an hour together, and it was a moment in time that I will cherish forever. I felt so much love. God knew what I needed at that moment in time, and He provided it over and beyond my expectations. Isn’t that how our heavenly Father loves us? Exceedingly and abundantly, no questions asked. The journey to this point had been very difficult, but it paled compared to the blessed gift of my precious baby girl. Through it all, God’s unwavering love and provision had sustained me.
The beginning of motherhood was both exciting and challenging, especially as a single mom. Sure, my mother was there to help me, but she made a point of letting me navigate the challenges independently. If I needed help, she was there to assist and instruct, but ultimately, this new life was my responsibility. For the first week or two following the delivery, I struggled with some depression. It wasn’t enough to need medication, but I seemed to cry at the drop of a hat. My hormones were all over the place, but after some time, they normalized. As expected, taking care of a newborn required some adjustments. Initially, it was exhausting getting up all night to change and feed my daughter. Then, there were those times when I had done everything I knew to do, and there was nothing left to do but to let her cry it out. Then, I would grab my pillow and blanket and sleep on the couch. There were certainly times when my mom would step in and help, but my daughter’s care was mostly up to me. The early days of motherhood were spent mainly at home. I would take my daughter for walks in her stroller almost daily and even introduced her to a small kiddy pool in my parent’s backyard. Like me, she loved playing in the water. Although I loved being a mom, the time came when I began to consider my future as far as employment. I knew I couldn’t just sit at home and not financially contribute to the household. My interest immediately turned back to working in the medical field. I felt being a doctor was off the table, but I knew there were other professions in the medical field I could pursue. In the fall of ‘84, I began attending a medical assistant college. Instead of having to take out a loan to attend the school, the payment for the college was paid in full by my precious great-grandmother. I then eventually served an internship at Barnes/Jewish Hospital and STL Children’s Hospital in their cardiology departments. Finally, in the spring of ‘85, I was offered a full-time job at Incarnate Word Hospital as a cardiology tech. I was hired to work the evening shift. My daughter was asleep for much of the time I was gone at work, which worked out perfectly. Without the help and support of my mom, it would have been nearly impossible to accomplish all that I had. For my entire life, I have been so grateful to the Lord for her strength and her faith during this time of my life.
Late in the summer of 1985, the Lord surprisingly brought Paul back into my life. He was no longer attending college but now worked for the same company as his father. We began talking on the phone more often, eventually leading to “just friend” get-togethers. I introduced him to my daughter, and the two of them hit it off immediately. After some time, we both felt that, once again, our relationship was heading in a positive direction. This prompted a serious discussion with Paul. I needed him to know that if our relationship would escalate into anything serious, my daughter was part of the package. No exceptions. Without hesitation, he said he would have it no other way and welcomed the adventure. At that point, our relationship definitely turned a corner. Our first official date was on October 3, 1985. The three of us went miniature golfing, and Paul played the entire time with my daughter on his back in a baby carrier. It was a blast! She had an excellent time playing and pulling on his hair while he was trying to golf. She distracted him while cackling the whole time. It was a joint tactic for me to win that game of mini-golf finally! More than anything, it was a memorable time for the three of us. As time passed, I began to see Paul emerge as a father figure to my daughter. Our relationship continued to grow over the next couple of months. At times, we would include my daughter on our dates, and sometimes it would be just Paul and I. It was an amazing time to see God move. In December, Paul asked me to marry him. I accepted with a resounding “yes”! Despite the lies the enemy whispered in my ear shortly after my daughter was born, God had actually provided me with a Godly man who didn’t despise me for my situation but loved and cared about me AND my daughter without reservation. On July 12, 1986, I married my best friend, the love of my life, and help mate. Eventually, at the end of December 1987, my daughter became “our” daughter through adoption. What a beautiful victory to what seemed to be a near-impossible season of my life.
What more can I say but that God was beyond faithful to me. Even during those dark valleys of rejection, abuse, loss of friends, financial struggles, and threatening letters, Jesus brought me through! When I could no longer emotionally walk on, He carried me! An observation that I have made is that many well-meaning Christians think because we have Jesus living in our hearts that the road ahead with Jesus should be smooth and without problems. Really? Can I be brutally honest with you? Nothing can be further from the truth! Jesus, before His death on the cross, said this, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” Jesus did not say, “You might have trouble” or “I’ll keep all trouble away from you.” – No! But He did promise that He would walk with us right in the middle of our problems. I am sure most people are familiar with the 23rd Psalm. Maybe, like me, you memorized it when you were a child or possibly recited it in church every week. Listen up! Pay close attention to what it really says in reference to those dark times in our life, I really like how the Amplified Bible says Psalm 23:4. “Even though I walk through the [sunless] valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod [to protect] and Your staff [to guide], they comfort and console me.” This is what Jesus did in my life. He walked close beside me, protected me, and guided me through those dark and sunless times.
Looking back over the early years of this story, I’ve had many opportunities to think about everything that happened. This reflection of the past has caused me to experience various emotions and realizations. For that matter, at times, I have found myself experiencing feelings and emotions consistent with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) as I have re-lived these situations while writing about this part of my life. As I have worked through feelings of anger, deceit, powerlessness, and rejection, I also came to a stark awareness that as a teenage girl, I was being groomed by a man who was eight years older than myself, who had power and authority over me which placed me in a very vulnerable position. It has taken some time for me to work through these truths and deal with them. Choosing forgiveness regarding everyone who hurt me has been a big part of the picture. Oh, it’s not been easy, but necessary. The truth is what the enemy meant for evil in my life, God absolutely turned it around for my good (Romans 8:28). Not only have I been blessed with a beautiful, intelligent daughter, but God has given me an incredible husband, AND through our daughter and son-in-law, we have been rewarded with three wonderful grandsons! What a deal! I refuse to take any glory for the victory, but I am beyond grateful that my heavenly Father brought me through it all. He is worthy to be trusted! Praise be to Jesus!
Prayer – Heavenly Father, I come to you on behalf of those who may be going through what seems like an impossible situation. Jesus, I pray that you would make yourself real to each person and flourish them with your unending love. I pray that you will lead them, even through the darkest moments of their life. If someone reading this has never decided to follow you, please draw them to yourself. Help them to understand that they will never make it through without You! Father, as they willingly give themselves to you, I pray that you will begin to work in every situation of their lives. And as you have promised, whatever the enemy has meant for evil, You will turn it around for good to those who love God and are called according to His plan and purpose. In your precious name – Amen!
If you need prayer or encouragement, please contact Jamie through our email – holeintheroof@gmail.com
