The Demon Pirate that Came After My Baby
How I fought back and continue to fight
I was a pirate. A captain. Or perhaps I was the whole crew. My perspective kept shifting between them. But I was definitely the captain when the council was called. We, as an independent nation of pirates, had to decide how to fight back against encroaching navies of other nations. One captain stood out from the rest. Was he Blackbeard? Barbossa? Davy Jones? He certainly looked terrifying. Big and hulking, with grayish skin and a mass of tangled black hair, he presented himself as the easy solution to our problem. The council was uncertain and gave him a non-committal answer. We were dismissed while the highest members of the pirate government (oxymoron?) debated the question. Meanwhile, my ship was commandeered for the scary captain and his crew, out of gratitude for his offer of protection. I reluctantly and resentfully evacuated the crew for him.
Then I was suddenly the cabin boy. My cabin boy. I had fallen asleep in a hidden spot somewhere in the belly of the ship. When I came to my senses, the big, scary captain was speaking to his crew nearby and I heard every word. He didn’t want to protect us. This was only one step in his grand master plan to rule the entire ocean. The rest of us pirates would either be his slaves or be destroyed. Also, he warned his crew to be tight-lipped about his true origins. He was the son of a demon. Or of an eldritch abomination from another dimension. Or of some kind of giant sea creature. Whatever he was, it meant he had purple blood and a complete disregard for human life.
I’m not sure how the cabin boy escaped, but the next scene was me as the captain and crew reporting to the high council with a container of the purple blood as proof. But the council downplayed the threat, insisting to the rest of the pirates that it wasn’t that bad, the blood was a hoax, and everything would be just fine. Privately, they told us they were afraid of starting a panic. The demon captain had already sailed, and my commandeered ship was one of the best, so it would be nearly impossible to catch him. But since we already knew the truth and had a score to settle, we were now commissioned to find that demon pirate and stop him.
Unfortunately, we never got the chance. I woke up.
Yes, it was only a dream. One of a series of strange and vivid dreams, mostly having to do with the ocean, that came with the hormone changes of early pregnancy (my second). I also killed a giant shark, watched a Sea World-type show at a theme park, and witnessed several pods of aquatic mammals seeking shelter from a hurricane at a scientific observation center. But this pirate story stuck with me. I desperately wanted to finish it, to see what happened to my crew and if we managed to stop the demon pirate.
At the same time, this pregnancy was becoming a lot scarier than my first. Several of my friends had recently gone through miscarriage or had “rainbow babies”. I knew the statistics: 1 in 4 women have a miscarriage at some point in their lives. My own mother was one of them. We used to talk about “the baby who didn’t make it,” my older sibling that no one ever met. And shortly after I got my positive test, I noticed bleeding and freaked out. It was only implantation bleeding, but still, I was terrified. I couldn’t help wondering: Is it my turn now? After a healthy pregnancy and birth four and a half years earlier, was it time for me to join the club that no one wants to join? I couldn’t get excited. I couldn’t allow myself to dare to dream of my baby’s future, not when it was so likely that I would lose that dream. Anxiety was my constant companion, waking and sleeping.
Meanwhile, every night, I read my son a bedtime story from a children’s Bible. It’s probably the best children’s Bible out there, tying all the Old and New Testament stories together into a single narrative centered around Jesus. The story of the Fall of mankind is especially interesting in the way it frames the serpent’s lie. “Poor you,” he hisses. “Perhaps God doesn’t want you to be happy.” Essentially, that is exactly what the devil tries to get us to believe. God isn’t really wise and loving, he whispers. He doesn’t give you all these rules because He wants what’s best for you. He just wants to spoil your fun. Being human is a prison. God’s keeping all the good stuff for Himself. Why should He get to be in charge? He causes all your suffering because He doesn’t really care about you. This thread runs all through the book. It’s at the root of the Israelites’ complaining in the wilderness, of Jesus’ temptation, and of the Pharisees’ convoluted attempts to prove themselves. At the bottom of all sin lies a failure or refusal to trust in the goodness of God.
One day, I was on my knees in tears. In terror. All I could think was, Is it my turn? Am I going to lose this baby? And suddenly it dawned on me what I was doing. I was telling myself, or letting myself believe, “God doesn’t love me. I can’t expect good things from Him. I have to be on my guard in case He decides to hurt me.” It was the lie of the devil, and it was stealing any joy I had in my baby.
It was the demon pirate.
Later, I attended the Bible study my friend was leading over the summer. It was a study of the Tabernacle in the Old Testament, along with some of the surrounding stories about Moses and the people of Israel. That week, we had just gone through the golden calf incident, where God’s people stupidly defy Him right at Mount Sinai, right after getting the Ten Commandments, and build an idol to worship. After that, God tells Moses, “If I go with these people, I will destroy them. They’re too stubborn. You go ahead and take the Promised Land. But I won’t be with you.” Moses, though, will have none of it. He insists, “If Your presence does not go with us, do not send us up from this place.” Talk about devotion! Moses is offered the land flowing with milk and honey, the dream of his ancestors for generations. And he says that’s not good enough. He wants God. He prefers the desert with God rather than paradise without Him.
The teacher challenged us: what was our attitude towards the presence of God? Was He nice to have around but unnecessary? Or was He vital to our existence? If we were offered everything we’ve ever wanted in life, but without God, would we accept? Or would we agree with Moses, that the desert with God is better?
I took a hard look at myself. I looked at my friends who had gone through miscarriage. Their faith remained and even grew stronger through their grief. They were enabled to comfort and care for others in new ways. They became vibrant testaments to the faithfulness of God in the midst of suffering. I remembered another loss I had gone through, and how God first revealed Himself to me as one who draws near to His people in the everyday trials of life, not just the big, hyper-spiritual experiences. I thought of all the trials and tribulations involved in raising a child. Of how insufficient I feel with my son on a daily basis. Of how hard it is to be a good example to him.
And I realized that I would agree with Moses. I would rather go through a miscarriage with God than have another baby without Him.
Instantly, my anxiety dissipated. I felt peace. The threat was still there, and still scary. But I could face it now. It didn’t own me. With the help of my crew — that is, my friends and family, especially at Bible study — I had defeated the demon pirate and reclaimed my ship. There were other battles as the pregnancy continued. Would the baby have a disorder? Would I have gestational diabetes? Would I have postpartum depression? Was God secretly out to get me? But I had the advantage now. That temptation, that demon pirate, had been exposed. When he attacked, my crew and I were ready.
I’ll probably never get rid of the demon pirate completely. There are always vulnerable places in life, temptations to rest my security on temporary things or other people, and then panic when they’re threatened. But now I know the truth. Now I can fight back. He will never rule the sea.
So yeah, I finally found out the rest of the story.
(And in case you were wondering, the baby is fine. She’s three months old now and growing fast. Thank you, God!)