Josh's Last Ride

After a long day of riding roller coasters, we attempted the newest one in the park.

Millennium Force.

That should tell you how long ago we last visited Cedar Point.

The line was shorter than it had been all day. Most of the older crowd had gone home. The remaining children were either sleeping in a stroller, or perched atop dad's shoulders as families trudged towards the exit.

The overpriced junk food made our belly's ache, but not enough to keep us from shutting down the park with one last ride.

Night is my absolute favorite time in any amusement park. The sky pitch black, illuminated only by lights from roller coaster and game vendors. The sound of the coaster clinking to the top and screams in the distance as riders experience the fall.

I have always loved roller coasters. I fully extend my arms into the air, tip my head back, and relish the ride.

Josh....not so much.

He rides out of love for me, instead of a thrill for loops and turns and tunnels.

OK, maybe for the picture taken during the descent down the hill. He gets a big grin every time he spots us in the photo center, almost like it's the first time he has ever seen his hair straight on end. I am far too thrifty to spend $20 for a 5 by 7, so I don't have any examples from the actual day.

My apologies.

After an hour in line, it was finally our turn to board the coaster. I pulled the lap bar down easily and was trying to discreetly listen to the conversation in the car ahead of us. It was a young couple, fighting, and I couldn't figure out what they were bickering about.

I know, I know. I should have been minding my own business, right?

I looked over at Josh and he was struggling to tuck his knees in below the lap bar. Each position looked more uncomfortable, and nothing would achieve the goal of locking the bar into place.

He tried to push his hips all the way to one side and tuck his feet under the seat, but the bar still would not lock. Back and forth he wrestled, trying to squeeze his knees in.

I could see the panic setting in.

Not for the lack of seat belt, but because Josh hates a scene. He despises being the center of attention; detests a platform full of people looking at him.

I reached over and tried to push the lap belt down, just as the thumbs up sign was given by the park attendant.

The coaster started moving, and Josh still wasn't strapped in.

Now, that's fine if you are riding the Blue Streak; not so much when experiencing a 310 foot tall, 92 MPH ride.

I started screaming for them to stop as the front car passed the loading station.

Thankfully, the operator recognized my panic and the train came to an abrupt halt. Josh was able to shimmy himself securely into the seat with the help of an attendant.

As we exited, Josh officially informed me that he would no longer ride coasters with me.

I can't say that I blame him.

As I have gotten older, I notice that I don't love the same things as I did before I was a parent. Roller coasters being one of them. I know they are safe, but being responsible for two living, breathing human beings requires I take fewer risks than I used to. Even if they are only imaginary (chance of dying: 1 in one-in-one half billion. Not sure what the risk jumps to if you aren't strapped in).

The ups and downs of the journey has been likened to a roller coaster.

Up when we found out we were expecting, down when we got the diagnosis, up when we saw Dr. B for the first time, down when the bed rest didn't work, back up when we received the news of more fluid this week.

We are not even to the end, so I cannot accurately rate the overall ride.

I can only tell you how it feels thus far.

When I look back over this past month, there is so much to be thankful for. The meals, phone calls, visits, e-mails, gifts for our kids, flowers, cards, prayers, the support from this community--none of it would be experienced if this wasn't our life right now.

Fear always threatens to encompass the whole, though.

It prevents me from tipping my head back, throwing my hands up, and fully experiencing this roller coaster called high-risk pregnancy.

I have this on my mirror as a daily reminder:
Isaiah 41:10 So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Thanks to whoever sent me that!

As I sit here tonight with this new life kicking me as I type, I am trying my hardest to enjoy the ride without constantly fearing the fall.....